Noir: Divine Contract
by Cavalyn
Summary: Without giving the story away. Trust me, i wrote When a job goes wrong. Read this too. It DOES have a Kirika Mireille pairing. And a very new plot, takes place before the end of the series. Please Read and Review.
1. The Seraph's Mistake

**_The first chapter of my new Fiction. Well, hope you like it, I know this chapter won't appeal to all. As Lack of Noir. But it's an intro, and I'm sure we all know how much I hate writing intros. Well, please be patient and wait for better things, but still, please review this. Please? I don't want to give away the plot, but I WILL tell you now, as if you are like me, then you NEED to know. This will eventually be a Mireille Kirika pairing, although I am planning to take it slow, and have them both slowly succumb to their new feelings.

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_**Scripture I **- Dark are the souls of the Fallen. Dark are their hearts, and Numberless be their sins. Those that once were Holy, are now beyond redemption.

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The tall cloaked man walked slowly deeper into the sanctuary, the echoes of his feet upon the floor sounding loudly in the quiet atmosphere. Deep in the distance one could hear slightly the low sound of some foreign instrument playing. A light and peaceful melody to sooth the soul.

The man's dark brown gaze turned back to the task at hand. Sparkling white marble floors, dotted with vibrant gardens of bright flowers, reaching into walls which curved upwards in almost impossible architecture. Constructed of some unknown substance, whiter than any white, brighter than a thousand suns. And yet the sharp light did not hurt, would cause harm to no being.

There was a large door ahead of him. Light brown wood, reaching high towards the ceiling of the building, a ceiling which could not be seen from the floor. For clouds and mist swirled at the edges of one's vision.

The door was of an ornate build, with bright polished silver tooling scrawling along the unblemished wood, circling patterns and symbols of peace and prosperity.

Two tall beings stood at either side of the door. Silver armour breastplates gleaming brightly in the light, with white linen cloth underneath, falling in waves down their legs. Their bodies were as still as rocks, their spears held perfectly vertical. Their faces were calm, their colourless eyes still, and yet they were always aware.

As he neared, twin spears fell across his path, forming a cross before him, blocking him from the door. The guard on the right spoke.

"Your kind are not welcome here. Leave now, whilst you still can." The man turned his gaze upon the young looking guardian on the right. The guardian's face was calm and serene, with his eyes lidded and his lips in a straight line. Long blonde hair draped over his shoulders. His partner looked almost identical, as if they were close brothers.

"I wish to see the Seraph, allow me to pass, or suffer the eternal end." Neither moved, nor did the spears drop.

"We would give our lives in the servi-" His oath was cut off in a throaty gurgle as his windpipe was torn out in a strong grip. The bone in his neck cracking and his head falling backwards as the front of his throat was ripped away.

A spear flew from the man's left, cutting through the meat of his shoulder as he fell to the side, crimson blood splattered on the pristine white floor, running across the marble like some macabre painting. Cursing angrily, the dark eyed man knocked the offending spear aside and rushed forwards towards the guardian. A quick blow to the stomach knocked the wind out of him, forcing him to buckle over in pain. A knee slammed into the guardian's face, breaking his nose and bloodying his face, before a darkened black knife plunged into the back of his neck, dropping him loudly to the marble floor.

The scene was one from a nightmare, white walls now covered in red blood, the body of a once handsome man slumped against the wall by the door, what remained of his throat pumping his life blood out onto his now red smeared breastplate. White linen was stained red.

His partner was sprawled on the floor, laying in a growing pool of dark crimson, a knife, now a dull grey sticking from his neck.

It was useless now, the enchantment gone with the first person it pierced. Not that it mattered the man had to concede.

As he stepped over the form of the dead man, careful not to slip on the slippery floor, and reached for the handles to the door, preparing to push them open, a loud chorus could be heard emanating over the once calm air.

This melody, if it could be called such, was not as the calm and peaceful chorus before, this tune held urgency. An alarm, alerting all to the enemy within their midst.

The door opened with a single push, swinging inwards with a loud groaning of wood and stone, as the hinges shook and dust fell from the ceiling in billowing clouds. Coughing lightly the man strode purposefully into the room, his eyes searching for the one he hunted. They did not have to search far.

Standing not thirty paces from him was an impressive figure. A tall man, over six feet tall, with long billowing silver hair that hung down almost to the backs of his knees. Not grey with age, but a shiny silver, like that of a coin caught in the sun. His clothes consisted of long blue, silver and white robes that reached down to and concealed his feet. A long slit ran up the back of it, between his legs to allow mobility. And one would also run up the front, like a divided skirt.

The dark man was snapped out of his reverie as his target turned to face him. A long sad mournful face, pale of skin and strong of character, a face that looked more used to joyous song than sad mourning. His eyes were bright silver, shining brightly, and yet, though there were no pupils, he had no doubt that they were focused solely on him.

"So you passed through the gates unharmed." It was a statement, and not a question, made in a voice that was soft and quiet, yet seemed to be soaked in authority. The dark man shrugged carelessly, dismissing the question as irrelevant.

"What do you wish here?" The silver man continued, his voice still soft, "Your kind are never welcome here, and to come alone was foolish indeed. Unless... have you come to repent? The lord is merciful-"

"I need no repentance!" The man snarled angrily, interrupting the bastard before he could even suggest it. "I have cast down your puny beliefs and serve a different lord, your impotent God can die for all I would care. I came here for a different reason!"

"I understand." The man spoke quietly. There was a groaning as the doors behind them closed shut, cutting out the sounds of the chorus of alarm. "And yet, I am sorry that this is the course you choose, I again give you the chance to repent. Or even to leave. Your course is a foolish one, I am in my home, my place of power. The sanctuary feeds me with it's divine might. I can make for you a portal, to take you back to your homeland."

"A fine offer, but I did not fight my way through the pearly gates just to go home again." Out from under his dark cloak a black knife came forth, etched with dull runes. The silver robed man spoke again.

"This war is folly, we are brethren. Why do we persist in killing ourselves?" Ignoring him, the cloaked man walked towards the calm figure dressed in silver, walking closer with his weapon concealed.

"You have involved the mortals." He continued, "A pact was made that never would they be involved, for such an action would lead to the destruction of everything, of the end of the world! You lead us all to ultimate ruin!" The man passed by, stopping next to him, with their shoulders almost touching. He leaned his head close to the silver man's ear.

"So?" He whispered arrogantly. The robed man seemed to sigh in a depressed manner. The knife swung, aiming to plunge into the back of the man's head.

Robes twirled as the figure ducked under the swinging arm and span on the ball of one foot, delivering a powerful blow to the cloaked man's stomach. The hand did not connect, and yet great force flung the man back, so that he slid ungracefully across the floor.

With a quick hand plant the man was back on his feet, staring hatred at the figure in silver. He was different now, the oncoming fight had caused him to reveal his full form.

Still, with the long silver hair, which now no longer hung down his back, but floated and wafted in the strong breeze, whipping around the back of the figure's head. His eyes seemed to blaze with an even stronger intensity, the silver shining like twin stars. But that was not what drew the attention.

Purest white they were, those that reached out from behind his back and stretched almost to the sides of the sanctuary. Wings of great span. There were four, two coming from each side of his body, proof that this was one who had progressed even further than his brethren. Among the _Angelic, _wingspan was an indication of strength, this was the strongest of all the divine Angels.

Last of the Seraphs. High Seraph Metatron.

The man snarled in hatred. Running forwards with unnatural speed he vaulted off of one wall, and leaped towards the Seraph's chest, his hand clutching the dagger spearing towards the figure's chest, even as his other hand stabbed towards his less protected thigh.

A strong arm blocked his arm, stopping the blade before it could pierce the angel's heart, a wing took the blow instead of the man's thigh. Cutting a deep gash in the feathery, yet strong material, merely a shallow cut to an angel. Thwarted the man tried to leap backwards, to quickly avoid a counter attack. Unfortunately for him the wind seemed to pick up suddenly, almost forming into a solid as it slashed against his body, the strength of the wind actually cutting though cloak and skin alike.

Dazed and bleeding, the man stepped back to allow himself some time to heal.

"Who are you?" The Seraph asked, "Who are you to our enemies? You are human! At first I believed you to be one of them. A Fallen Angel, but you are too slow and weak-" The man's blood boiled in anger.

"SHUT UP! I _am_ powerful! The fallen angels bow down to _Me!_ They do all that _I_ order!" The Seraph's head lolled to one side in apparent thought.

"A dark prophet then. If you lead them, then why do you fight for your life here, where I am strengthened and you weakened. The divine power of my sanctuary weakens you. You know you cannot kill me here." The damned angel was right, already he could feel his unnatural healing fail to stem the bleeding.

"I foresaw your death in a vision, and it is as yet still coming true!" He leapt forwards, daggers slashing wildly in quick flashing arches of light. The Seraph fell back before the onslaught, using a combination of hand and wing to block each deadly blade before it could pierce his flesh. He fought with no weapon, and yet every now and then some invisible force, some magic, would pierce the prophet's skin, slash across his exposed arms or face. Goading him to greater fury.

Wings beat with great power, creating a gust of air powerful enough to knock him back. Angrily he prepared to attack again, only to be brought up short by the sound of pounding on the great door. The Seraph saw his panicked look.

"I have created a barrier to hold all away from us, and to protect them from what damage we might inflict on them. We shall not be interrupted. I offer you again, the chance to leave."

_He's holding all the angels off, and killing me. Already I'm panting, and yet he's not even short of breath. I guess I overestimated my power, and that vision. Still, there is ONE last chance._ Not a chance anyone would take willingly. Except for a fanatic, and the dark prophet was nothing if not fanatic.

"Die!" He screamed as he leapt forwards, prepared to fight to the death, it was not long in the waiting.

Faster than ever before, with such speed that showed he had been toying before, the Seraph reached back and drew a celestial spear from nowhere, aligning it with the shocked prophet's body, all in the space of a heartbeat.

Pain erupted in his chest, with such ferocity that he could not even scream, such an action felt beyond him, as gravity pulled him painfully down the length of the shaft, towards his hated killer.

"I hope the lord forgives you my son. I hope he grants you eternal rest." The prophet smiled as he slid his hands higher.

"Fuck you, Seraph." He managed to croak out. He smothered his gasp as he slowly plunged the dagger into his own stomach, forcing it in as far as it would go, already he felt it eating at his flesh.

"And say "Hi", to the demons in _Cania_ for me, I'm afraid that Satan will consume my soul for this exchange." The Seraph's eyes widened in sudden fear and realisation as he tried to throw the impaled man away from himself.

Too late as he felt the knife just nick his arm, barely just spill his blood. The dark prophet screamed in anguish as his still living soul was devoured, yet the scream was barely heard over the swirling sound of a whirlpool. A black whirlpool, that spun on the floor and was dragging the shocked Angel deeper into it's depths.

"Lord! Forgive my failure!" His last words cried out, reaching the ears of the struggling Angels outside as the Seraph's barrier crumbled and the door burst open under the combined might of the Archangels.

Inside the deepest room of the sanctuary, the last of the Seraph was no more. All that remained was the empty corpse of a dead man, his blood smeared face twisted in terror. And a few floating white feathers.

Metatron, Highest, and last of the Seraph.

Had fallen.

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_**Dum-Dum-Dum! I Hope someone liked this idea. And I know that there was no Noir in this episode. Don't worry they come next chapter.**_

**_But did anyone like it, EVEN THOUGH, there was no Noir? Please review, it doesn't take long, barely ANY time! I mean, for my other one I get something like 400 hits and 10 reviews. You bloody lazy 390 people! Lol, sorry, but it's true. It isn't hard to review and you don't need to be registered, just click on that damn button at the bottom left of screen..._**


	2. A Light in the Darkness

_**Next chapter then. Just to dismiss something a reviewer put. This is by no means a crossover with angel sanctuary. It is Noir, with angels, as in mythical beings, not any anime variation on the myth. So its just Noir and the myth. No other animes. Sorry about that, but wanted to explain now, before some people got it into their heads that other characters would be appearing. **_

_**Here, have a very meaningful and prophetic chapter heading.

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_**Scripture II **- God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

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_Two years later...

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The door slammed open. Ricocheting loudly off the wall in a resounding clap of thunder as the furious blonde woman stormed into her apartment. Her face was wrathful, her bright blue eyes, normally so calm, were ablaze. Long golden blonde hair wafted angrily as she crossed the floor with unnatural grace, suggesting a hunting wolf. A tight fitting sleeveless maroon top over a black miniskirt, long pale legs which were sheathed in high heeled black boots.

Mireille Bouquet, aged twenty, professional assassin for hire.

Was defenitely pissed.

Slowly, so as not to draw undesired attention to herself, a small Asian girl with tanned skin ghosted into the apartment, pushing open the door which had slammed back on itself. With fine Japanese features and short black unruly hair, Yuumura Kirika quietly entered the apartment.

Where her partner was angry, so she was calm. Deep brown eyes, tinted with a hint of red stared expressionlessly at nothing. Her face was completely calm, no, empty. What one would at first assume was calm, was actually nothing at all, just emptiness.

She herself was dressed more practically than her Corsican blonde partner. A dark green skirt, under her favourite white jacket. Apparently horrible looking pink shoes were worn over her feet. She herself couldn't see what could be so offending to the blonde about them.

But then, Mireille was a completely different person when compared to herself.

Kirika was an amnesiac. Where Kirika had a past she wanted to remember, Mireille had a past she desperately wanted to forget.

And had done so for many years, right until Kirika had popped into her life. Perhaps it was to be expected that the Corsican assassin was a little cold to her.

"I'm going to take a shower! Get a cup of tea ready, will you?"

Kirika nodded to Mireille's retreating back, pretending it was a request more than the order it really was. When she heard the bathroom door close, she slowly walked up to the window. Mireille took long showers, and would not need her nightly cup of tea for a good while.

The outside streets of Paris greeted her as she stared out into the rain. Nothing was happening this night, the rain had forced people to stay at home. Down below she saw a single man in a coat rushing down the street, dodging from one shelter to the next as he tried to get home as dry as possible.

Kirika wished she could be like that, with no more worries than getting wet. That delicious, unattainable boredom that the streets seemed to hold was a different world from hers.

Murder and death was her life. Blood spilled to earn her daily bread. Swirling darkness, purest sin. Life and death, she held both in her hands, but gave only death to others.

_Why should I be the one to live?_ The question haunted her often, and yet she knew she would never have the bravery to kill herself and free the world from her presence. But then, that didn't matter, that was where Mireille would help. Their promise... After it was over, after they had found out the truth about the Soldats, then Mireille would kill her.

Kirika didn't mind. If anyone was to kill her, she was glad it was to be Mireille. Which reminded her, as she scrambled to her feet, the tea had to be made, Mireille would be finished soon.

Whilst Kirika was not afraid of the blonde's anger, it was not something she relished receiving either. Not when it was simple enough to avoid, just prepare her tea for her, and stay out of her way. Kirika had never expected a warm reaction from the blonde, and she hadn't therefore been disappointed when she had been made into some kind of servant for the woman.

_Focus on the tea, not your sorrow._ It was easier said than done.

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Mireille sighed as the warm water beat against her skin, it felt good, after all this stress to have a nice warm shower. It gave her time to peacefully think through what had happened to them.

Their last job had been far from simple, and the rewards had been far from satisfying. They had been sent to kill a mafia kingpin, and having done so had been made the target of the Intacobbile, Sylvana Creone, the brutal princess. She shuddered again as she said that name. Even though she was now dead, and Mireille had been the one to kill her, she was still afraid of the woman.

_It's over now, she's gone and you're still here._

And after all that stress and near death, Christ Kirika had been shot twice! The stupid girl, Mireille had managed to get through suffering no injuries, for a girl who was supposedly Noir, she had a penchant for drawing bullets to her.

But the contract they had gathered as their reward? The information was useless... Soldats was old...

"Dammit.." She sighed as she leant her head on the tiled wall of the shower. What a waste of time, money and blood.

She was also annoyed at herself, for so nearly dying, because she had been too afraid to pull the trigger, had stood there whilst the woman charged her with a knife. A knife dammit! If it hadn't been for Kirika...

She positively loathed being saved by someone, of having to rely on someone else, so had not taken that well either. She had to admit that she's been a little unfair to the girl, never once thanking her for saving her. But she just couldn't bring herself to like the girl. She had her good points, she was cute, quiet, well mannered, never made a mess and was willing to obey almost all of Mireille's commands.

But... there was just something about her that Mireille found threatening. Perhaps it was just the lack of trust between them? They were too new to each other to really have bonded, and being an assassin made it hard to bond to anyone.

The question was however? Did either of them _want_ to bond?

"Do I?" Not really, she had promised to kill the girl. How was she to bond with someone she had to kill? It was better for both of them if their relationship stayed this way, with Mireille commanding and Kirika quietly obeying.

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"The tea's ready." Kirika whispered as Mireille walked down the steps and into the main area of their shared apartment. The woman was dressed in her loose white sleeping shirt, suggesting that they would not be going out tonight. Kirika was glad, she was too tired to want to go to a restaurant.

"Thanks." Mireille answered automatically as she sat down behind her computer and began opening emails. Kirika was not perturbed by the lack of any real gratitude from the blonde. She wanted answers, not thanks.

Again the blonde ignored her presence entirely, engrossed in her work on the computer as she occasionally sipped at her tea. Kirika was aware that she did not fit into the blonde's life, it _did_ affect her somewhat. It made her disappointed, could she not even relate to another assassin? Was she destined to always be a stranger?

Remaining calm she walked over to the window and sat down, staring outside. The rain had become worse, and now no one inhabited the streets. She stared down at the wet emptiness, happy to lose herself in the rain's simple song. She sighed sorrowfully as a slow lone tear escaped down her cheek.

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Mireille heard the sigh from her place at the desk. Her eyes widened at the uncharacteristic show of emotion as she searched for the young Asian girl. She was sitting on a stool staring out of the window, head rested on her arms.

_What's bothering her? I thought she was happy to stare out of the window all the time?_

Silence... nothing was said, and no more sounds came between them.

Shrugging it off easily Mireille went back to her computer, there were jobs to choose and Soldats to hunt down. What was one small girl in the grand scheme of things?

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A good two miles away, in the midst of the pouring rain, two figures danced on the top of a large stone building, feet splashing in puddles as they twisted and weaved within each other, flashes of silver occasionally arching in the night. A tall willowy figure swerved to the side to avoid being impaled on a long black spear, swinging his silvery rapier towards his enemy's neck. The stocky grey faced man sneered in contempt as he leaned his head back to avoid the cut, before swinging his foot low into the young man's knee.

Ramiel cried out in pain as the metal tipped boot connected with his kneecap, sending waves of agony up his leg and causing him to stumble.

Not stopping himself he fell to the side to avoid the point of the infernal spear, instead it plunged into the stone roof of the building, cutting through the cement like soft wood.

Gritting his teeth Ramiel climbed to his feet and adjusted his loose white leggings to stop it from sticking to his pained knee. He was dressed in his loose trousers, which ended in light brown boots, shod with metal. A tight fitting light blue and white top, with numerous belt like strips that wrapped around his body to keep it tight, it was sleeveless, allowing him greater mobility, even as the light brown gloves on his hands allowed him to touch sin without pain.

A long grey hood fell behind his back, ready for him to use to conceal his features when necessary, and he also wore a divided light grey robe that fell down to his boots. Long cuts up the left and right to allow him to run without tripping. His clothing was soaked wet, hanging heavily over his tall frame as the downpour continued to soak the clothing to his skin.

His hair was long and dark blonde, falling behind his head in a ponytail that reached the centre of his back. The rain had plastered the fringe to his head, and soaked his hair completely. His skin was pale, yet tinted red with exhaustion, and his eyes as colourless as the rank and file angels, empty of colour, like glass. His face was youthful and fey, as he actually was. Whilst facial features were no indication of age, Ramiel was in fact only nineteen years of age.

And outclassed.

His opponent was easily as tall as him, with a slightly lighter blonde for his own hair colour, his eyes were pitch black. Suggesting that he was a rather important Fallen Angel, one with years of experience. He wore armour too. Where Ramiel relied on his speed with the rapier and skill with a bow, this angel relied on his power with the spear. And even wearing black segmented carapace like armour, the fallen angel was almost as fast as himself.

This fight was drawing to an end... Ramiel's.

Ever since the High Seraph had died the war had been a losing one. Where the Angels needed hundreds of years to replace a Seraph, for the Fallen Angels, a few months was all that was necessary to obtain a new Dark prophet. Without their divine wisdom, for only the Seraph could commune with the father, the Divine Angels were left reacting to the Fallen one's attacks. Rushing to thwart them with no guidance.

They were stretched out.

And dying.

_Time to go, I cannot win this battle, and Michael would be angry if I allowed myself to die here._ So saying, Ramiel took his chance and leapt from the building into the rain filled night air, hoping that the Fallen Angel would be content to let him escape. Flexing his muscles he expelled his wings from inside his back, wincing lightly as they tore through skin and flexed out into the cold night air. Ignoring the pain from his quickly healing back he spread his wings wide to halt his fall, gliding to a reasonable speed from which he could fly away.

The beat of black wings could be heard behind him, as the Fallen one took chase on wings as black as the night itself. Ramiel glanced behind, his own white wings were almost two metres in length, quite powerful for someone his age. But the Fallen Angel had wings almost twice that size, black and spindly they propelled him through the wet air with far greater speed than Ramiel could achieve.

_Damn. I'm dead._ Diving, he frantically tried to shake the Fallen Angel before he could catch him, twisting between bends and past lamp posts that he hoped the Fallen Angel, with his larger wingspan, would not be able to fit through. Another false hope, as the older angel easily swerved through small gaps whilst still closing the gap between them.

Ramiel knew they were over the city the Mortals referred to as Paris. He also knew that he had no idea of what Paris was like, and as a result no idea where the nearest gateway to the Seraphic Sanctuary was.

Wings beat near his own, swearing at his lapse in concentration Ramiel dived to the side abruptly whilst swinging his rapier behind him and spiralling down, one wing tucked in, manoeuvres so confusing that it should have lost him.

Would have lost him, if he hadn't already been so close. Arms grabbed his own as a heavy armoured body smashed the wind out of him. His rapier was knocked flying by a gauntleted fist, right before a forehead connected with his chin, knocking his head back in pain. Too close for a spear to be used.

Growling, Ramiel kicked low with his metal shod boot, catching the Fallen one in the back of his knee, where there was no armour. A metal fist into his stomach was his reward. Reflexively he tucked his wings back behind himself to keep them safe. What he didn't realise was that the Fallen angel had been using Ramiel's own wings to keep them descending slowly, like a glider. With both their sets of wings tucked in, gravity and aero dynamics pulled them down with greater speed.

The armoured Angel swore in fury as he tried to break their fall by spreading his wings wide, one clipped a rooftop and was instinctively drawn back in, throwing them further of course. Ramiel had the presence of mind to kick the Angel some more as they hurtled towards a building.

At least they would both die. He hoped.

Where he expected the sickening crunch of bone against solid wall, Ramiel received the fierce explosion of glass breaking on his unprotected back, slicing through his clothing and cutting his wings and skin alike. His head cracked against something wooden and solid and he fell into darkness.

He thought he heard screams as he fell under, and saw a small dark shape run the dazed Fallen Angel through on his own infernal spear. He hoped it was true, even if the mortals killed him too.

Eyes closed, unconsciousness beckoned him, and beyond that...

Death.

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**_Riiight. Well, Noir was here. A very unhappy, anti-social Noir. I know you're thinking "Where the hell was the romance!" Weeellll, that comes later, as I said, I want to get the entire transition from allies by necessity to Two maidens of Noir._**

**_Ramiel was here too! All will be explained later. Pronounced "Ray-me-ul"_**

**_REVIEW! Please. I need them, they make me want to write, I sound selfish, but if you've ever written, then you'll know what I mean, it just makes you feel like you're writing for a reason, and that there ARE people out there who care about your writing. So please... for me...?_**


	3. A Compassionate Choice

**BACK FROM HOLIDAY, LET THE FANFICTION ROLL!**

**Sorry I forgot. Disclaimer: I do not own Noir, nor do I own any angels or any fallen Angels, the myths are probably the property of the church, but I don't know. Just that I don't own them.

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**Scripture III **_- Hark to the Harbinger of hope, the spear of light. Serve well in love, and place true fear in greatest darkness. For only man is capable of the greatest sin, but only he is capable of the greatest good.

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Crimson light of the new dawn pierced the cerulean sky of early morning, bathing the city in cleansing orange light of the new morning as the sun creeped higher over the tiled roofs of Paris. The shattered glass, glistening on the floor like sparkling diamonds made a stark contrast to the dark red blood that pooled on the tiled floor, running down the cracks like small bloody rivers.

Shadows still clung grimly to the walls, reaching across the floor to cover the dark form sprawled out in death. The tall, black armoured figure no longer thrashed, having stilled mere moments ago. Finally dying from the wound which had speared a hole through it's stomach. A small figure was crouched cautiously over it's recumbent form, one hand on it's throat, the other holding a small black gun. Ready if any threat presented itself.

"Nothing." The small girl reported after a long pause, dropping her hand as she climbed easily to her feet and turned to look at the other occupant of the small apartment. Mireille nodded in reply, before turning her eyes to the other intruder to her home. The second prone figure, who lay unconscious or dead against her pool table, was alike and unlike to the armoured one.

He was tall, with long blonde hair, a shade darker than the other one, his skin was pale and his face youthful and fey. He looked young, though there was no telling if that meant anything, after all he was defenitely not human.

Obviously he was dressed differently too. Compared to archaic black armour, this one wore simple cloth, with a grey divided robe and a tight fitting white top. It looked to be fastened using an intricate design, in which numerous light blue belts were wrapped partially around his body, all ending at a single point. Mireille suspected it could be tightened or loosened by adjusting the straps.

He was bare armed, although he wore light brown gloves, and his shoulders were covered by long curtain like cloth, that reached down about half way between his shoulder and his elbow.

Coupled with his grey robe, loose trousers and dark grey boots, it gave the man an exotic air. As if he couldn't achieve that well enough on his own? Kirika seemed to notice her hesitation, for she headed for the unconscious figure herself, kneeling by him as she had done with the other and checking him as well. All the time Mireille kept her Walther ready, searching for even the smallest movement.

There was none. Never once did he try and move, and for a moment Mireille thought that he might actually be dead. Indeed, his head was matted with dried blood, testament of his encounter with the solid wood of her pool table leg. Kirika looked up at her, face unreadable.

"He's alive." Came the almost silent report, causing Mireille to slowly close her eyes.

Was she pleased? She should have been, and yet she knew in her deepest mind that she wasn't. Two dead bodies presented a problem, but one that could be dealt with easily enough. A quick trip to the sewers was all it would take. But with this one alive?

Questions within questions. Too many unknowns. Who was he, where did he come from, what was his purpose? Had the two of them been searching for Kirika and herself? Or had there presence here merely been a coincidence? Either way Mireille was unsure that she knew what to do with them.

After all it wasn't everyday two winged men fell onto your kitchen floor. Yes, as cruel as it sounded, it was a shame he had survived...

"Mireille?" The small Asian girl asked, indicating the figure on the floor. Asking, in that silent way of hers, for instruction on this matter. Mireille could see what the girl wanted to hear, her entire posture spoke of a person who was completely determined that they were not in danger. It was the way the Beretta was held negligently, the safety was on. Even those normally expressionless eyes were now readable. They were looking for something, Mireille suspected it was the first aid box.

"Kirika, I don't know if it's wise to just take him in, I mean we know nothing about him." She had known as she said it that Kirika would object, and sure enough the girl's eyes almost widened. A statement of extreme shock for Kirika. Before Kirika could argue back Mireille outlined her main problem.

"We're assassins Kirika, you know we can't just trust anyone, and don't you find it suspicious that he broke through _our_ window, and not one of hundreds of others?"

"But Mireille, he's an An-"

"No! Don't say it Kirika, as soon as we start thinking like that we're not professional. Besides they don't exist, he could just be a ... mutation ... or something..." As if to mock her argument Kirika looked down at the folded white wings, drawing Mireille's attention to them as well. "Wings don't mean an Angel Kirika." She lamely added.

"But Mireille, he doesn't look evil."

"Evil people wouldn't get anywhere if they all looked evil now would they?" Mireille replied in an exasperated tone, she _knew_ Kirika wasn't this foolish. So why was she so determined to look after him all of a sudden? She had never _seemed _religious before.

"But what if he _is_ an Angel, would it be wise to kill him?" Kirika's voice was low as she asked this, but Mireille managed to hear the hint of victory in it. And no wonder Mireille had to admit, that argument put a spoke in all of her own.

No organisation liked to have valuable agents wasted, after all they'd have put valuable time, effort and money into training them. It might be a bad idea if others came looking for him and Mireille couldn't explain where he was... A long sigh escaped her lips as her shoulder slumped slightly in defeat, letting Kirika know, without Mireille having to admit it, that she had won the argument.

Perhaps this would all work out for the best, Mireille wondered to herself ten minutes later, as she sat with a bowl of warm water, cleaning the bloodied hair of the creature and washing out the shallow cut to his scalp. If they had to look after him, then perhaps whoever he worked for would reward them for their efforts, at the very least this person would owe them a favour. And in their line of work you could never have enough favours.

Again Mireille began to wonder what he was... Of course her mind called him an Angel, but that was impossible, surely? What else then could he be? Mireille furtively looked around, Kirika was in the bathroom, soaking some bandages in water, as well as refilling the bloodied bowls with fresh water. Not close enough to see her...

Hesitantly, because it felt like she was taking advantage of him, Mireille reached out and lightly touched one of the pure white wings. His left wing had curled up by her legs, and she couldn't resist the urge to see what it felt like, a childish curiosity that she couldn't quash.

It was soft to her touch, and yet surprisingly strong as well, she could feel the coiled muscles underneath the velvety feathers. She lightly berated herself, of course they would have to be strong and muscled, he would have to be able to use them to carry his own weight. The wound, which had been on his wing, only a light gash, had already healed itself, momentarily making Mireille suspect unnatural healing properties. Until she realised it was only the wing injuries which were healing at this accelerated rate. The cut in his scalp, and the bruises on his battered arms were still just as pronounced as they had been earlier.

Soft padding of feet made her quickly drop the feathery appendage in embarrassment, stroking an animal or a bird on the wing was one thing, but in this situation it really _did_ feel like she was molesting him. Perhaps because apart from the wings, he was perfectly human in shape?

Luckily Kirika did not notice anything wrong as she padded into the room, bowls at the ready and bandages prepared. In fact she seemed not to notice anything, as she sat at his side and began bandaging a what she claimed was a broken rib. Mireille did not argue with her, Kirika was an accomplished field surgeon, and by far Mireille's superior in medical matters.

_As well as a lot of other things..._

Yes, Kirika was good at plenty of things, as long as they revolved around killing, or how best to allow others to kill. Martial arts, weapon training, marksmanship, weapons maintenance, first aid, survival techniques, scouting, climbing, running... The list was a long one, and Kirika was probably skilled in a lot of other things that Mireille hadn't found out about yet. It was galling that a girl so young could be more professional than herself, after years of experience and training... _At least I have a past._ She thought to herself spitefully, but then realised that wasn't a good thing, since her past was not a happy one anyway.

_All I have, is a past not worth remembering and a little girl, who can do everything I have ever strived to do, without even trying. _As it had always done before, sudden resentment rose within herself, choosing to blame Kirika for her own anger. And yet this time she could not seem to muster the single minded animosity that she usually could. Maybe it was the way in which Kirika hated her abilities, she had never asked for it... and wished only to be a normal girl... Or maybe it was the innocence, perhaps the near silent girl was growing on her, fitting into her lifestyle despite Mireille's attempts to the contrary.

Or... maybe it was... that despite her killing abilities, and her fearsome skills that showed themselves in the most simple of house hold tasks, Kirika was just a little girl at heart? Just like now, as she knelt by their unconscious guest carefully bandaging his side whilst trying not to hurt him. Just like a small girl patching up an injured bird's wing. No one could have accepted that this girl had only fifteen minutes ago driven a spear through a man's stomach, no, through thick armour and a man's stomach. A feat which many others would be hard pressed to even achieve, let alone with such professional indifference.

Still... Mireille knew that when this was over, she would still kill Kirika. She would have no problems pulling the trigger. Although, she had to tell herself, she'd make it as painless as possible...

That was... if this current problem ever resolved itself... Mireille had to wonder if Kirika would come to regret her compassionate decision? Mireille certainly hoped not.

* * *

Feeling was slow to come back, it started as a distant thrum, like it was happening to a completely different person, before slowly becoming more pronounced, and finally orientating itself to specific parts of his own body. After the initial pain, more feelings came to him. There was something soft beneath him, soft and yet supporting, and another softness beneath his head. He was laying on something, on his back, with his wings spread out to the side. Whatever he was on, it was unable to hold his wings, as they hung stiffly over the edges, obviously he was on some sort of raised platform.

He wondered where he was, in the back of his mind he could remember his fight with the black winged Angel, and subsequently falling through the window of some mortal's abode. But after that his memory went blank.

So he was at the mercy of some mortals? But if that were so, then why was he so obviously still alive? Had he been spared? Unlikely. According to his teachers Mortals were fickle creatures full of sin and greed, and devoid of even the smallest shred of loyalty. What Ramiel had seen of them had not done much to reverse that opinion.

Oh, objectively he knew that _some_ of them had to be kind, but none of them were empty of vice. None could match the purity of his own kind, and that made them unworthy of trust.

_So am I in danger? _The platform he was laid upon was quite obviously a bad or a table, and judging by the tightness on his head and his torso he was swathed in bandages. So whoever had found him _had_ healed him and tried to make him comfortable. Surely they couldn't be evil?

Cautiously, knowing that after his long sleep bright lights might sting his eyes, Ramiel creaked his lids open. As expected he was forced to wince in pain, but after a few seconds he felt ready enough to take stock of his situation. The first thing which greeted him was a white ceiling, which was in itself a rare sight since he was used to awakening to cloudless skies. He was however unable to take any more in because a slight rustling nearby told him that he was not alone.

Somewhat worriedly Ramiel shifted his head to the side to see who was with him. Two female mortals calmly regarded him, one a tall beautiful blonde and the other a small calm faced brunette. That was all Ramiel was able to take in, before the sensation hit him with the weight of a sledgehammer.

"Are you alright?" The taller one asked in a soft tone, a musical voice that belied the pure unadulterated evil Ramiel felt from her. Ramiel could not answer, so frozen in sudden fear and shock was he.

It was impossible, how could it be? How could any beings be so suffused with sin? More pronounced than a demon's more suffocating than that of a Fallen Angel. None of them Fallen could match the sin which these two radiated. Coming from them like a dark shroud.

"Are you alright?" The woman asked again, in slow deliberate tones lest he could not understand her, but the worst thing was that he could. Why did she taunt him so? There was so much sin, they had committed so much evil, why did she fool him into thinking that he might survive this encounter? Ramiel knew that his eyes were wide in abject fear, and he felt not the slightest bit ashamed, sure that even the Great Michael would cower from them.

"Stay away from me!" He screamed in defiance and overriding terror, falling off the bed in his haste to escape them, in his fear clogged mind he pressed himself against what seemed to be a solid divider partition. He knew there was a better way to escape, but was too afraid of the two Mortals in front of him to even consider it. The two mortals who looked at him with a mixture of shock and confusion, as if completely unaware of the evil they had committed.

But Ramiel could see into those eyes, those brown eyes which drew his gaze, empty and emotionless, piercing into his soul.

And he could see his death in those eyes.

* * *

**_Chapter done... Yay... sorry about the lack of progress whilst I was on holiday, but I had a friend with me who thought it was boring when I was writing... So this was all I managed to do of this fic. _**

**_Review! Please... _**


	4. The War of the Angels

**_Next chapter, whoooo! Still barely get any reviews…. Grrr…… If you are out there, just reading with a "Oh, I just read, I don't have the time or I don't know what to put." You know what you are? Lazy! Damn bone idle. Here I am, making these things for you, and you don't even have the decency to thank me… I mean, it takes me over a week to update, surely you can managed to write one teensy review? Anyway, good things come to those who wait, and this huge chapter ought to compensate._**

_**Sorry to those who DO review, you lot are great. Forgive my rant. **_

_**By the way, Lain of Avalon is again my Beta reader. YAY!

* * *

**_

**Scripture IV **- _Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

* * *

_

It felt like a sickness, a sweeping plague that coursed throughout him, pulsing in waves, making his limbs feel weak and tense at the same time, making his heart beat double time. Even as his hands clenched and unclenched.

Fear.

He knew that was the case, just as much as he knew who were the cause. Sin. Sin was like a dark cloud, a gas that seemed to swirl around creatures of evil. It could not be seen, it could only be felt. In his time he had seen evil people, the Fallen were evil. Some men were evil.

But never had he encountered so much of it, seeping from two individuals who, on the outside, looked so innocent. He had always sworn that if he met a mortal he would judge him based on his actions, and not make assumptions. But that had been easy to vow, when he didn't have the evidence in front of him, battering at his senses like a hurricane against a window pane.

Cautiously his eyes searched for them. The tall blonde woman was sat at a table, a steaming cup of liquid before her. He seemed to remember hearing it called tea. She was simply sitting there drinking, doing nothing else. That worried him, she could be readying herself for anything. As soon as he took his eyes off her, he would be vulnerable to her. Sin seeped from her, but the knowledge seemed not to bother her.

Quickly he located the other, sitting on a stool by the window, she had her back to him, but he still felt watched by her. She looked melancholy, her back was hunched and he knew that her face rested on her hands as she stared into nothingness. If it had been anyone else he would have gone to her, asked her what was wrong. But he could remember those eyes so well.

Those deep dark pools of ultimate oblivion. They had looked at him with such emptiness. Such lack of emotion, that he could imagine her killing him, driving a knife into him with that same expression. There was a girl who had seen life's evils first hand, so much that she could no longer even feel emotion at them. She had obviously suffered much. But just as obviously had been corrupted. He was surprised that they were not allied to the Fallen.

He knew that they were not. The Fallen held servants like slaves, none in their service would ever dare to harm an Angel. Yet he knew that they had killed the other. Even though when he had awoken the body was nowhere to be seen.

He had not dared to ask what they had done with it.

He knew not what they wanted with him, he was unsure if he wanted to know. But one thing was sure, it could be nothing good.

* * *

Mireille felt his eyes upon her, those crystalline colourless orbs, she continued to drink her tea without turning. Waiting until his eyes had left her to go elsewhere. He was healed, they had done what Kirika had wanted them to do. So why was he still here? She knew why. He feared to leave.

Not fear of the world outside, but fear of how the two assassins would take his leaving. Worried that Kirika and herself did not _want_ him to leave, and would forcibly stop him from doing so. He acted like a whipped dog around them, cringing whenever one of their eyes met his, backing away whenever one of them tried to get past him. Submitting in every way to them.

Mireille knew that he feared them, it had shown in the first words to come from his mouth. She also knew that it was not good for Kirika, to hear those words come from a person she had tried to save. The small Asian was currently sitting at the window, a picture of abject misery. Mireille felt a small trill of anger seep through her. Who was he? To decide that Kirika was evil? When all the girl had done was help him?

Calming herself down Mireille tore her gaze from Kirika's slumped back, it shouldn't bother her that Kirika was being treated unjustly, after all the girl was merely a means to an end. And yet, it did bother her. Maybe because this was the first time that Kirika had tried to do something good, something nice, and he rebuffed her efforts. It wasn't fair.

But then, nothing ever was in the business.

Regardless perhaps the situation could be used to their advantage? Mireille was anything if not curious about the origin of this creature. Maybe he could be persuaded to share with them his secrets.

"Kirika?" Mireille spoke out after a moment's pause, making the young man jump, Kirika merely turned to regard her with an empty expression. "And you," Mireille spoke, looking him in his colourless eyes, he nodded hesitantly. "Come here, we have things to discuss."

The angel, if that was what he was came quickly, only a slight hesitation in his step as he sat on a stool she indicated. Shifting his weight to get comfortable, although Mireille suspected that it was to allow him time to think. Surprisingly it was Kirika who hesitated in coming forwards, but the moments pause had been so quick that Mireille barely noticed it. But notice it, she did.

_Is she afraid of him? Or perhaps his fear hurts her?_

"I'll make this quick, who are you and what do you want?" She demanded of the man, who looked down at his hands. She let him think to himself, sure that he would answer her in time. Surely enough his fear of what they might do overweighed his caution.

"I am Ramiel, Knight apprentice of the Order of Michael. An angel of low ranking, I was sent here on a routine scouting mission when I was ambushed by one of the Fallen. We fought and then I ended up crashing into your window and blacking out." His voice was soft, and Mireille was sure that most women would find it musical and alluring, lucky that she wasn't most women then.

"Tell me about Angels, and this Fallen." Mireille commanded, trying her best not to sound like a gleeful child looking for a bedtime story. Again there was barely a pause as he answered her.

"Angels are as you know them we are divine beings, white of wing and live in our sanctuary. We serve the Father and look after mortals. Or that was what we once did, now we are at war with the Fallen and cannot spare the men to protect the mortal world."

Mireille was beginning to feel that she didn't want to know this, that perhaps the knowledge alone would make living a good deal harder, but her natural curiosity soon got the better of her.

"The Fallen," he began again, "were once Angels, who succumbed to desire, avarice or greed and forsook the way of the Light, serving only in Darkness. They are evil beings with wings as black as their souls. Cold of heart and yet powerful they wish the destruction of everything that lives in all the worlds. They must be hunted down and killed!" His voice at the end was harsh and filled with hate, and his hands were clenched on the table. Again Mireille was struck with a premonition, that this was not a good idea.

Best to end it then. They didn't need the stress that involvement in a divine war would give them. They worked for money, not a spot on God's supper table.

"Can you get back to Heaven from here?" Mireille asked in a calm voice. Ramiel graced her with a suspicious look but did answer.

"Yes, there are portals all over the world to the Divine Sanctuary, it would take me but a little while to find the one in this city." Mireille nodded in reply, she had expected such. It made sense for this "Heaven" to exist elsewhere than in the sky, after all someone would have found it if such.

"Can you hide your wings?" She asked again, and received just a nod in reply. So they could walk around among them and they would never know. Mireille had to wonder if they'd killed any angels.

"Then go." She suddenly commanded, making the Angel's eyes go wide in confusion and sudden hope, "We're not holding you here. We've healed you and now you can go, but you never met us, understand?" The last was added with a dangerous tone of voice, leaving no doubt in the Angel's mind what she meant.

"Y-yes... yes I understand. Thank you. I'll go now!" He managed to stutter out, climbing swiftly off the stool and stumbling to the door. It opened easily and he stepped out into the corridor, swiftly closing it behind him, as if to ward off sudden bullets.

Mireille turned back to Kirika, noticing the almost glum expression on her face.

"I told you, we can't just help everyone, they're never grateful. Always judging." Mireille tried to explain, Kirika nodded in reply but still looked depressed.

"Oh come on, get into something nice we'll go to that Italian place that does the nice ice cream, hmm?" The depressed look was wiped away almost instantly as Kirika bobbed her head and made a small sound in the affirmative, before rushing off to get changed.

_Hmm, she may be a killer on the outside, but inside she's still just a little girl._ At least now she wouldn't act so depressed.

And as Mireille wandered into the bathroom for a quick shower, she had to wonder why she cared.

* * *

Ramiel left the building in a calm manner, despite the itchy sensation of having his wings tucked inside his own back. It was always an unpleasant feeling, literally having your wings brushing against your internal organs. But in truth he barely cared, nor did he care for the curious stares he was receiving because of his peculiar clothes. He had not thought of creating an illusion, and now it was too late to do so. Besides, he had never been good at the Arcane arts.

There was sin all around him now, and yet he barely noticed it, perhaps being in the presence of those two had made him realise how little sin this actually was. He was still amazed that they had let him go, and even more they were not following him. They wanted nothing in return, and were not trying to find their way to the Sanctuary, not that they could even get inside.

Still it made him think, they had such sin, and yet were only kind to him... Maybe that sin had been a long time ago? No, unlikely the two were still young, and the sin was fresh. He would have to ask Michael when next he saw him. The Archangel was always willing to answer questions, and was wiser than any that Ramiel knew.

The Parisian streets were crowded, and it was sometimes difficult for him to push his way through them, yet no one threatened him, and there didn't seem to be any Fallen Angels in hiding here. Perhaps Paris was not a good city for them? After all, they normally had a strong presence in all the cities.

Never mind. He wasn't that far from the Gateway. He had never used the Paris Gate, never having been here, but he could still feel it. Like a sense of ... a colour. That was the only way to explain it. It was like a patch of whitish blue that he could see only in his mind. Attracting him to it if he latched his attention onto it. His feet followed the route, never once going wrong as it took him into an abandoned building.

The Gates were always in poorly visited areas, seeing a person disappear would be a rather unsettling experience for a mortal, so the Gates were placed with care. Only an Archangel could move or place a Gate, and they were willing to do so to keep the Mortals ignorant.

"Ignorance is bliss, they say." He whispered to himself as he ran his hand down the wall, to anyone else it looked wooden, but to him it was made of pure white marble. _Time to go home._

As he placed his hand in the centre and invoked entrance to the Sanctuary the wall seemed to shimmer as holy white light engulfed him.

* * *

"Target located." A soft voice spoke in the depths of the night, the human jumped as he heard the voice coming from what he was sure had simply been a shadow a moment before. The man ran his hand carefully over his assault shotgun, making sure that all eight cartridges were snugly in place.

"You want that we take them out?" Another voice spoke, he recognised it as one of his subordinates. Again he waited for instructions from the sibilant voice, he himself might have been the leader of this band. But he held no doubts that he would be killed for interrupting.

"Dangerous the situation could become if left alone. Proceed as planned, all obstacles are to be removed. This must be their last night."

The man bowed in reply, making his subservience obvious, it would not do to be killed unnecessarily.

"You heard him," He shouted to his men, "Move out!" As they quickly filed out the back of the lorry he made to follow. But was stopped by a cold hand on his shoulder.

Turning around he looked up into eyes that were a beautiful aqua blue, and yet the rest of the face was pale and emotionless, with ragged pure white hair. Those eyes were fixed on his as the hand clamped firmly down.

"Interference cannot be ignored. Rewards come to those loyal to our cause. But to those who betray us comes only death. It is a shame that you cannot pass this message onto those who truly hold your loyalty."

"Fuck." He whispered, knowing full way that denying it was useless, angrily he shoved the shotgun into the Fallen Angel's stomach, but before he could pull the trigger he was spinning. His vision swirling madly as he tried to feel what was going on. His limbs felt strange, and his neck ached. As he landed painfully on the floor he felt his eyes widen in shock at what he saw.

Not two paces away from him his body was still in the grips of the creature, his own body, minus it's head.

"An eternal life of pain awaits you." The voice whispered as the man's vision clouded in death. "An eternity of Anguish."

* * *

"You finished?" Mireille asked of Kirika, who had indeed obviously finished her ice cream and was sitting back with a blank look on her face. A time before this would have perturbed her, but she had become a little better at discerning the emotions in those looks, and Mireille could see the contentment in this look.

"Hmm-hmm." Kirika uttered In the affirmative as Mireille placed a large note down on top of the bill and left the restaurant, quietly favouring their waiter with a smile of thanks. She knew that the young man had been rather enthusiastic about making sure everything was alright, for obvious reasons, but he had been nice to them and it cost her nothing to be gracious in reply.

"I think he likes you." Kirika spoke to her, in a subdued voice which almost sounded like a whisper, the voice was noncommittal, not caring about what that might mean. Mireille _knew_ the waiter _liked_ her, he was a handsome young man with long light brown hair in a ponytail, and bright green eyes. Perhaps five feet ten. Had Mireille been a normal woman leading a normal life she might have considered flirting with him. But too many weights were upon her shoulders now to think of such trivial matters.

"Hmm." Mireille grunted and shrugged to her partner. Nothing would come of it, and to him it was obviously just a childish infatuation. "Shall we catch a cab?" She asked of her small partner, knowing that Kirika liked walking more, and this was pretty much Kirika's night.

"I don't mind." Kirika answered quietly in reply making Mireille sigh. Instead of answering she merely walked away towards their apartment, waiting for Kirika to catch up to her. It was late now, almost eleven at night, Paris never slept of course, yet the streets they walked down were almost entirely empty of life. Even the buildings seemed empty, not a single light present.

"It's a nice night." Mireille said after a while, feeling a strange need to break the silence between them. It _was_ a nice night she realised, the stars were out in force and the moon was full. Not a single cloud marked the sky.

"Yes." Kirika answered in reply, staring up at the stars as well, there was a childlike wonder in her voice, the way any young person might sound when they first saw something amazing. Everything was like that for Kirika, even after she had seen it a million times before.

"Hey, hon." A feminine voice interrupted from the side of them, making Mireille quickly spin around with her hand in her bag, gripping the reassuring weight of her Walther P99. Beside them, a woman had managed to almost silently approach them, perhaps even fooling Kirika? Or maybe Kirika had heard her and judged her not a threat, as always Kirika's blank mask refused to tell.

The woman was quite tall, and willowy. With a slim body wrapped in faded light denim jeans and a red T-shirt, under an open black sleeveless jacket. Her skin was slightly tanned and her eyes were a deep hazel. Long reddish hair flowed behind her and over her shoulders.

"Who are you?" Mireille calmly asked, not making a move to remove her hand from her bag, the woman had obviously noticed it, and knew some kind of weapon was being held ready.

"I'm just hear to warn you hon, that's all. If I were you I'd run now. People are hunting you. And someone not quite human, yet far more dangerous." Her tone was deep, a soft caressing tone and Mireille immediately suspected her of having wandered out of the red light district.

"Thank you... Do you know where they are?" Mireille slowly replied, not quite sure how far to trust this strange woman.

"Sure! They're..." She broke off for a second before her face twisted in sudden shock. "Shit, they're here! Damn it RUN!" She shouted quickly, taking her own advice and legging it down the alleyway. Mireille span on the spot as she heard a silenced gunshot. Running towards them were four burly men, each armed with silenced pistols.

Mireille quickly ducked down and to the side, ripping out her Walther and firing off six successive shots towards them with acceptable accuracy. One man fell, his face bleeding out his lifeblood and another was hit low in the shin, falling to the floor with a cry.

Kirika shot the grounded man easily in the neck, and brought down another with one single shot. The last man was hidden behind a thick wall and didn't seem to want to play.

"That wasn't so bad," Mireille muttered to herself, this didn't feel like Soldats. Those encounters were always much more difficult. This felt like just a simple murder case... Except they had attacked them in the middle of a street.

"Mireille.. someone's coming." Kirika's quiet voice suddenly echoed, tearing Mireille's eyes from the cowering man and bringing them up the street. Indeed someone was walking calmly down the narrow road. Unarmed and dressed in dark grey and black. Mireille could make out bright white hair, but the late night and the shadows hid anything else from her as he walked forwards.

_No time for this._ She thought to herself as she shot dead at him, the bullet screaming down the road towards his chest. Out of no where a dark scythe appeared and sliced the bullet in two, making Mireille freeze at the impossible feat.

Before either of them could react the man, who was still two hundred feet away, swung his scythe expertly in a vertical sweep, before slicing it through the ground in front of him and towards him. A large explosion erupted in the floor as the weapon passed through it, causing the walls of the buildings to buckle and crack. Mireille felt herself freeze again as the floor erupted violently towards them, smashing forwards like some strange steam train as the entire road erupted forwards.

"Mireille!" Kirika cried, somehow grabbing her arm and dragging her into the alley. Not a moment too soon as the strange phenomenon passed them by, like a tornado on it's side, still spitting broken bits of road everywhere.

"I like her advice!" Mireille shouted to her partner needlessly as she shot to her feet and ran into the alleyway, not daring to look back as they took turn after turn through the alleys of Paris.

* * *

They had dodged his blast. The street was in ruin, buildings had toppled and the road did not even resemble it's old self. It looked more like a crippled animal, with a huge furrow straight down the centre of it, and the edges had risen up like a valley. Not waiting for the police to arrive he sprinted quickly towards the alley, determined that they would not escape him. Suddenly he stopped.

"Always so willing to play with them? What about me?" A young male voice mockingly called out to him, making him slowly turn towards the voice. Sitting calmly atop the ruins of a Parisian house was a young man. With a ponytail, the colour of light caramel. His eyes were closed as his face was twisted in a cheeky and mocking grin. Really, did these humans have no will to live?

"Run along mortal. I have not the time for you." He grated, wishing that he could kill this arrogant youth, but knowing that each moment wasted gave them time to escape. He turned around but froze at the boy's next comment.

"Oh, but Semyaza... you're no fun!" The voice was again mocking, and he turned back to face the youth.

"What did you call me?" He managed to choke out.

"Oh, is it not your name?" The youth asked with a face of false innocence. "Or do you prefer Azaziel?" That was enough, no mortal could know his name. Let alone both of them, he was not a simple human. A threat.

"All obstacles are to be removed." Azaziel warned, drawing again his scythe out of the night and holding it before him. The youth's eyes widened before he smirked again.

"Oh! A scythe, how cliché! But somehow it suits you. Quaint." Not waiting Azaziel swirled his scythe and again sent a roaring wind towards where the boy had sat, destroying everything in it's path and creating another long chasm through Paris. When the dust settled he was not at all surprised to see no body there. _Just a weak being, _he thought to himself as his scythe disappeared.

"Miss me?" A voice laughed in delight as a roaring pain shot through Azaziel's left shoulder, drenching him in blood. Angrily he span and swung with his scythe, narrowly missing the smiling face, which ducked below mockingly. In it's hand was a light silver rapier.

"You know, I came with no weapon. Good job I found this laying around eh?" He taunted whipping it towards the Fallen Angel's face. Azaziel leaned back to avoid the glimmering point, before lashing his scythe across in a horizontal slash. Acrobatically the young man leapt over it and kicked him in the face, making him fall back in shock.

_No normal Human, nor a normal Angel could have dodged that. What is he?_

"Oh Azzy... no wanna play no more?" The boy taunted with a look of mock sadness on his face. Infuriated at the name he swing forwards with a feint which the boy happily dodged, but was less lucky at dodging the reverse lunge.

His cry was satisfyingly loud as the darkened blade sunk into his chest, smashing through his rib cage but missing any vital organs. Quickly the boy tore himself off the blade, before Azaziel could drag him close and finish him. He staggered back with his sword arm dangling.

"Yep, they always tell me to fight seriously, ah well, _they_ escaped, and you _failed_ Azzy. See you again next time! Toodles!" The youth arrogantly called to him, blowing a kiss towards him before jumping into an alley.

Azaziel was only a second behind to reach it, but apparently that had been all that was necessary for the boy to escape.

"Hmph. The target will still be killed. They are weak, and you cannot protect them."

* * *

The white light suddenly pushed Ramiel back, alerting him that something was coming through, just before two white lights flashed on either side of the marble wall. Slowly they coalesced into solid beings. Two Angels, wings hidden, both dressed in ornate golden armour and wearing an emblazoned flame on their breastplates.

_Wardens... Angels charged with Guarding the Pearly Gates. But what are they doing here..._

"Apprentice Knight of the Order of Michael, Ramiel?" The one on the right spoke, it's booming tone echoing through the abandoned house. Ramiel nodded and bowed to them in reply. Wardens were of high rank, and worthy of all respect.

"By Order of the Divine Council, you are to be executed."

* * *

**_Oooooh cliff hanger, as well as a few characters jumping in to confuse things. And none of them explain what they are, the suspense? Hopefully._**

**_I'll update where I can. Thanks to my BETA reader Lain of Avalon, who made me make this chapter longer and include the fighting. I had planned to have this as a boring filler. So go Lain!_**

_**Now Review. Click on the Divine Button Below.**_


	5. The Players Awaken

**_Okay everyone, some stuff to say here... I realise that a few people have expressed concern about the small part that Noir seems to be playing in this. Let me explain it to you a little bit. Noir, and you, know very little about what is going on here, they are at the moment bystanders, caught in the middle of a ferocious battle. that will of course change later, when they are forced to question for who they fight, at which point their actions will become almost the sole point in the battle. But at the minute, i am trying to express their confusion, that they are forced to continuously react to dangers, instead of hunting them down. SO i do know what you mean, but for the sake of the plot bare with me. I mean it's not THAT bad is it?_**

_**Sorry about the HUGE delay, school caught up with me. Also due to a lot of reviews saying so, i shall Keep Young mother and Bunker Fever. A school holiday is this week, so updating could be improved. But school has been affecting these, so after that updating may be sporadic, but i will not give up!

* * *

**_

**ScriptureIV **_- The Greatest Evil can often Result from the Best of Intentions. But the Greater Good can Never be Achieved by Evil Intentions.

* * *

_

Kirika walked calmly into their shared apartment, sparing but a quick glance around the empty room. It was more for show, she had known as soon as she had approached the door that it had been empty. Never the less, to keep Mireille happy she began to scour the area to the left, whilst Mireille took the right. No one here, no explosives and not even a threatening letter. Could their chance encounter really have been just that? A coincidence? The idea seemed unlikely, and yet they had not been pursued, and neither had an ambush been left here for them.

Maybe this was another facet of the Soldats, that mysterious organisation that they had been tracking for so long. It seemed to be the only answer for the moment, although how that single man had been able to stop a bullet, much less demolish a street left a few questions unanswered... Bio-engineering?

"I guess they don't know where we live." Mireille suddenly exclaimed hopefully, Kirika couldn't help but analyse that statement.

"Maybe so." Was her only reply, near silent as she drew her gun and placed it down on the pool table, relieving herself of its oppressive weight. As always she waited for Mireille to decide what they were to do next. It was not that she had no idea what they might do herself, but Mireille was the one who would herself put the plans and the search into action. Not to mention that anything she might suggest could just as easily be disregarded by the Corsican blonde.

"Why don't you go check the news, hmm?" Mireille suggested, making Kirika nod without any change in expression and head off to the small televison they had recently bought. Although her exterior showed nothing, she was in fact slightly pleased with how Mireille had addressed her. it was not much, but it had not been an order. Of course Kirika knew that Mireille had meant it as such, and that to refuse would have not been a good idea. But at least it was worded as a request.

It was more than she had expected.

But all such thoughts were quickly banished from her mind when she saw the current news. Mireille soon came to stand behind her, also staring avidly at the screen.

_"As can be seen," _The news reporter breathlessly reported, _"There has been a recent terrorist assault on Paris, the Bastille Tower and part of the Faubourg St Antoine were almost completely destoryed by the blast."_

The airborne camera zoomed further out, showing that two great chasms had been ripped through building and road, at right angles to one another and effectively levelling every building in their path. Kirika knew they were not the results of explosives, they were too clean. It looked more like someone had taken a great knife and dug through the landscape.

_"The total number of casualties has yet to be determined, but even now rescue teams are scaling the wreckage searching for any survivors. It has not yet been found who conducted this, and as of yet no terrorist organisations have claimed responsibility. The police and the military are looking into the matter as we speak. The president has urged all citizens to carry on as best as they are able and to continue their daily lives._

_"Back to Phillipe, who right now has a specialist on terrorist tactics ready for an interview."_

_"Thank you Ch-" _

Mireille snorted a quick laugh as she put down the remote, but Kirika could hear the worry behind her show of defiance. She was anxious as well, although she did not show it. They had seen a single man do all of this, and worse yet that man had obviously wanted them dead.

"What shall we d-" Kirika quietley tried to ask but was quickly interrupted.

"We carry on as normal! The Soldats must be behind this, we find them and deal with them." Mireille must have noticed Kirika's silence for what it was. "What? You don't agree?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you don't agree." This time it was more of a confirmation than a question. Kirika took a moment to choose her words, not wanting to anger her partner.

"It seemed like more than them, they have never attacked like this before... I just have a feeling it's not them."

"If not them... then who?"

"..." Kirika couldn't answer that. She was just sure that it was _not_ Soldats who had done this.

"We should find that woman!" Mireille suddenly exclaimed, making Kirika look at her for a moment, before remembering the red haired woman who had apparently saved them, or had tried to... she had warned them at least. Kirika nodded and made a small sound in the affirmative, it was as good a plan as they could make in this situation.

But where could they find her?

"I'll have my contacts look into it, I'm sure someone will know something." Mireille suddenly spoke, walking away to her computer with a short flick of her hair. Kirika left her to it and calmly turned back to the blank black screen of the television, using it as more of a concentration aid as she analysed the night slowly to herself. First the Angel, and then the strange man. There was no such thing as coincidence in the underworld.

"I've got a lead." Mireille exclaimed from across the room, shattering Kirika's chain of thought as she turned to regard the woman who was wearing a surprised expression. A lead? Already? Impossible, how could she have found what she wanted not two minutes into her search... "I have to leave to consult my contact." She spoke again, making Kirika's suspicion grow. She was sure that Mireille was not going to sell her out to the Soldats, or that she was doing anything that would negatively affect Kirika's own health. But why she wanted to go out, alone, when they had been attacked not half an hour ago...

"I'll go with you." She offered, knowing what Mireille's reply would be, but letting it be known that she didn't like it.

"No, you stay here." The blonde's voice was calm yet soft, telling her that there would be no argument on this topic, and yet apologising for it.

Nor did Mireille give her any time to object, simply picking up her bag and quickly exiting the apartment, closing the door carefully behind her.

_Why was Mireille lying? What has she really gone to do?_

Should she follow? Her first reaction was to do so, until she looked out the window and saw Mireille climb into a taxi cab. By the time it had pulled away it was already too late. Still showing no facial emotion she turned to regard the silent computer.

With not a single bit of guilt she sat down in the seat and began the long trial of hacking Mireille's accounts...

* * *

_"By order of the Divine Council of Heaven you are to be executed." _

The words continued to sound in his head, like the tolling of some great bell far in the distance, shaking his core and reducing him to just a quivering leaf in the wind. No, he could not believe it, could not take it all in... how? Why? The questions screamed inside his head, but there was no answer for them, there was no answer in the faces of those who would become his executioners.

"Why?" He shouted, the fear making his raise his voice in anger, almost hoping to scare them into saying it was just one big joke. But their faces remained impassive, unmovable blocks of uncaring stone.

"The Divine Council of Heaven has ordered your death, thus you are to be executed." The warden's voice was soft, not a sympathetic or caring soft, just a calm, quiet voice that suggested he cared neither way. That he would do his duty no matter what that was. But something didn't make sense...

"The divine council? Who are they?" He screamed to the two, who remained unperturbed, "The Archangels rule Heaven, ever since the Seraph's late death!" There was no council... Raphael, Michael, Gabriel and Uriel ruled the Divine as a team. Making decisions together with the best of their knowledge... had they made themselves into a council? How much had happened in the few days he had been missing...?

"That information is of no concern to the Fallen, by order of the Divine Council you are to be executed." That accusation shook him to his very boots. Fallen?

"No!" He denied without any anger, only a supreme fear and sadness, he was no traitor! "I am not a Fallen, I am loyal to the Divine! Please let me explain!" He begged fo the two statue like figures. Throughout his entire speech they had stood stock still, never once caring, never once listening.

"Our orders were not to obtain an explanation, they are to execute you. Prepare yourself-"

"NO! Wait, take me to Lord Michael, he will know what is happening!" Ramiel interrupted suddenly, knowing that Michael would protect him and see him cleared of such a false charge.

"Our orders do not involve taking you to the Archangel Michael, they are to execute you. If you are a true son of Light you will face your punishment with honour." The wardens finished as one, speaking together. At that moment the two of them both drew bright white sabres, the edges so sharp that they seemed to cut the very air itself.

"NO, Please wait!" Ramiel screamed as they both drew back for the killing strike.

"By order of the Divine council you are to be executed."

"STOP!" He screamed.

"Serve in light and die in peace." They intoned as the silvery swords descended upon him, making him close his eyes to ward away the sight of his death.

_"You must not die this night Ramiel... of the order ... of Michael. Run. RUN!"_ The voice screamed in his head, like the groaning of a thousand organs, more powerful than anything he had ever heard before. It was a command, and one that had to be obeyed. _"This is all i can do to aid you..."_

Screams reached his ears, twin shrieks of unique agony, and when he opened his eyes he saw that the two Wardens were sick, one leaning against a wall and the other on his hands and knees throwing up violently. They looked at him balefully, fully assuming that he had caused their agony. Ramiel's own vision had fading spots in it, as if a bright light had flashed suddenly in the room, which could have easily happened. All this thought took but a moment, and in the next he was already running.

The voice did not return as Ramiel barged open a closed door, seeing the exit to the building ahead of him. This time he needed a disguise, something to hide him from the suspicions of the humans. It was simple enough, a moulding of reality and thought that clothed him instantly in simple blue trousers and a black sweater. Even his hair had changed, becoming a deep black but still hanging behind his head in a long ponytail.

It was all illusion, he could still feel his robes flapping against his legs as he ran, his thick boots still thudded on the pavement despite that he seemed to be wearing white trainers. But it would fool the eyes, and that was all that so many mortals relied on. The streets were still crowded as he threw himself onto them, instantly submerging himself in the crowd to avoid detection. He kept to a fast walk, pushing through irate mortals that cursed him constantly, but paid them no mind. He was making his way to the pier, it would be less crowded there, he was sure of that. Even though that would make him more obvious it would also give him more time to think. Plus it was a fairly pointless place to go, meaning that the wardens might overlook it. He didn't dare hope that they might let him escape. They were far more persistant that that.

A twinge in his brow made him look up, it was almost like a sudden jolt of electricity. Instinct.

There ahead of him, dressed in a plain white shirt and light denim jeans was one of the wardens. His face just as impassive as it had been before, showing no emotion as he stared into Ramiel's suddenly frightened eyes. The road was closed. As the warden calmly and slowly reached for a concealed weapon Ramiel took flight to the side, pushing through angry crowds as he strove towards the less populated streets of Paris. Places where he could see his enemies coming.

_Enemies? They are my allies... my only family, my only friends. Where else can I go? The women? Those two humans are too dangerous for any to be around, I need somewhere where I can think in peace._

Somewhere, anywhere... where he could be alone. Time, that was all he needed.

It took less than two minutes for him to reach the more open streets, dodging between the scattered trees among the quays of the Seine. There were not as many people here as on the other streets, only a scattering of mortals rushing to their next destination. But he didn't have the time for that, he still needed to get away and lose those Wardens. Taking a deep breath he quickened his pace and ran to the left turn ahead of him, which would hopefully take him further away from his pursuers.

He hit the corner at speed, placing a quick arm on the edge of the wall before using it as a lever to spin himself around. And froze. Standing before him was the Angel's twin, dressed in similar clothing, a dark grey pair of trousers and a white shirt, a small glistening knife clutched in his fist. Behind him he could already hear the other angel walking to a halt, content to have him captured.

_End of the road,_ Ramiel thought cynically to himself as he tried to keep both Wardens in his sight, which was made difficult by their positions, he had to have his back to the wall. Which in fact turned out to be a door.

Ramiel couldn't help but smile, if faintly when the door swung open and he stumbled inside, he looked to be in a small diner, with a few tables set out and customers sitting and eating with industrious haste. Ramiel only saw the metal door at the other end of the room, surely there would be another exit?

There was no time to think of what might happen, and no time to look for another opportunity, ignoring snide glances and suspicious looks he forced his way through the waiter staff and customers and pulled open the door, before entering the kitchen area and pulling the door closed with a loud clang.

Nobody looked at him.

The kitchens, if the long metal benches and assorted cookers could ever be called that, were attended mercilessly by a small horde of cooks and other staff, and there was not a glance spared for a strange new man entering the room. Nearly.

"What do you want here?" A young male voice asked curiously, making Ramiel look to the left, to see a young man almost the same height as himself. Bright green eyes stared into his own. Not having enough time to think up a satisfying answer, Ramiel could only tell the truth.

"I need another way out, I'm being followed!" The desperation in his voice, if nothing else seemed to satisfy the human.

"This way." The young man urged, grabbing his arm and dragging him through bustling staff and numerous dark corridors, too fast for Ramiel to make any distinction of where they were going, too fast for him to even orientate himself. Before any understanding could come a large door was opened and he was thrust out into bright blinding sunlight. He turned to see the door closing behind him, made of hard steel. "Go, get out of here." The voice of the man echoed from behind the door, before Ramiel took his advice and ran. He didn't doubt that the Wardens would be back on his tail soon enough, and he knew there was only one place he could go.

Even if he didn't want to.

* * *

Deep in the suburbs of Paris a middle aged man had set his sights on his prey for the evening. A young looking girl in a long green coat was to be his next toy... before he killed her that was. He would show those bastards for trying to arrest him, they wouldn't be so damned arrogant when bodies showed up on their doorsteps... 

Deciding there was no time to waste he jumped out and swung his fist towards her face.

She avoided the blow with contemptuous ease.

So surprised was he, that he failed to even see the knife that planted itself in his throat. His eyes widened as he looked down upon it. But she was not even near him! She had thrown it? Suddenly afraid he scrabbled at his throat, trying to dislodge the knife that had already killed him.

The young girl walked away. Never once looking back.

* * *

Ramiel's heart was racing as he leant against the white door for a few moments, it was a small miracle he had been able to remember where the place was, let alone get there unaccosted. It was as if the Wardens had simply given up on him. 

_This was a bad idea... they might kill you!_

Yes, they might. But going home would defenitely kill him.

He opened the door.

The first thing his eyes focused on was the barrel of a black gun, pointing directly at his head from across the room, despite the distance he held no doubts that the bullet would hit it's mark. The owner of the gun was a short black haired asian girl, who was sitting at a computer. She wasn't even looking at him. A moment later and the gun lowered, even though she never looked at him she knew who it was.

He didn't know if he was angry or pleased that the other one seemed absent. He felt that this was the more dangerous of the pair... but at least she was quiet. By now the other one would have demanded to know what he was here for...

Sighing slightly he walked slowly into the room, accepting her silent invitation. He didn't make any aggressive actions, he felt like he was in the presence of a sleeping predator, that any sudden moves might send her into a killing rage.

Resigning himself to a long wait he simply sat at the stool by the window, content to let his mind wander over other, more important things.

_Divine Council... _

_who are they? What are they? The Archangels rule Heaven...There is no council..._

_Execution... _

_why...? _

_Treason... _

_how...? _

_Fallen Angel..._

_But i'm not!..._

_They believe it..._

_Why...?_

_What am I supposed to do? How can I fight this war against the Fallen if my own allies will not accept me? I can't just die, I refuse to. But I will be killed if any Angel sees me..._

_I need a purpose. Without purpose I am nothing. Purpose defines who I am. _

_So what is my purpose?

* * *

_

His Avatar had come this way. He knew that, he only hoped he had survived. After all, there was little that someone in his own position could do without raising suspicion, attacking the Wardens so recklessly had already been a bad move. But he could not allow his only advantage in this to die.

He was following a trail... it was already a good three hours old but that did not matter to him. He could see every footstep that had been made since almost a day ago, and one pair stood out among all the others.

He had come this way. Judging by the prints someone had led him trhough the building behind and out into this alleyway.

He searched around a little more.

The wardens too had soon followed, they had not come through the building, but from the path to the left.

Again it took him a few moments to pick out their individual prints, but once he had he could distinguish them from all others. Such was his gift, that none other had.

Too much had happened... too quickly as well. In the space of two days the entire structure of the Divine Sanctuary had been changed, and with that change came problems...

_Strange... another set of prints follows the Wardens... _

Quickly he sped up his pace, covering maybe four miles before he found a sight that made him freeze in shock, his sapphire blue eyes widening.

The Wardens were there, the both of them. Each was laying calmly in an abandoned alley, their arms crossed over their chests and their faces pale. Too pale. He knew as soon as he neared them that there was no life within them anymore.

"Who could have done this..." He wondered aloud, his voice resonating deeply in the complete silence of the alley. As he stepped closer he expanded his perception, letting his unnatural senses wash over the buildings around him. Humans, mortals, hundreds all around him. But there was nothing and no one with an aura that spoke of the strength that would have been needed to slay those two...

The wounds that had killed them were similar. One was a small hole in the heart, but not made by the weaponry the mortals preferred, rather it seemed to be from a very sharp adn thin blade. The other had his throat cut, again by a thin blade. But the question was... who by?

Not a Fallen. No Fallen would arrange the bodies so respectfully, and they would not stop at such simple wounds. Rather the entire bodies would be torn to shreds. So the only solution was... someone had protected his Avatar... someone had saved him. But not where he knew of it. As far as his Avatar knew he was still chased by Wardens... Perhaps it was time to let him know what had happened... Why he was hunted?

But there was no time left... Mortals were approaching. It was the matter of only a few seconds to call Divine Fire down upon their dead bodies and to cremate them, leaving no evidence of the Angel presence for the Mortals to pick over. After all, it would do no good for them to find the truth.

_I had best report to the Divine Council... they will want to know what has taken place this night... and where I was._

When the three youths walked into the alley, they saw nothing other than an empty alley and a slight dust upon the floor.

* * *

_Why did he return?_

The thought played in her mind. Yet Kirika knew she would not ask him, in all truth she considered finding out where Mireille had gone to be more important. After all, his troubles were his own, and she doubted he would thank her for interfering.

Already she had cracked into two accounts, and unless she was lucky it might take a much longer time than anticipated to find out what information her partner had received. The firewalls on Mireille's accounts were _very_ efficient. _I did not even know that I could hack into computer systems... how many other things have I forgotten?_

Why had she suffered amnesia? It was a question that haunted her all the time. If she had hit her head, or fallen then she would not have been laying on a bed, and with fake documentation for her history. She seriosuly doubted the cause of her memory loss would be so innocent. But how, and why would someone invoke amnesia inside her? Was it even _possible _to make someone lose their memory? If so, then who would do it to her? Not anyone who wanted her as an ally, maybe previous enemies had sought to limit her effectiveness by wiping her memory clean?

But still, who could just make you forget?

Another account opened before her eyes, listing hundreds of e-mails that Mireille never seemed to delete, perhaps for reference purposes. The newest was simply labelled: "Terrorist Bomb in Paris." Hesitantly she opened it.

_I know the truth._

_Meet me at Les Deux Magots at 10pm._

_- Your Friend. _

Kirika leaned back in her seat.

It was 10:06.

There was nothing she could do to help Mireille now. Nothing she could do but hope.

* * *

**_Wheew, probably rather confusing. Thanks to everyone, Lain included and I hope you'll review and forgive me for the delay. Hey to Nico-robin, if you're still there, your reviews gave me a good idea of trying to keep certain questions asked within the chapter. Nice one._**

**_Also to all, i have changed my e-mail address due to the fact that i am changing internet providers soon. So if you ever e-mailed me, I am now Cavartiash (at)hotmail .co .uk_**


	6. To Trust a Stranger

_**Oooohhhh, people express concern about the angel storyline shadowing Noir a little. As i have said before that will change, dont worry, i mean think about it. Mireille has gone to see that "contact of hers"... hint-hint... follow the laws of the world people, she will get info and being Mireille will try and kick ass. Interesting fact for you all, according to the dictionary, an assassin is NOT someone who kills for money. In fact Mireille and Kirika are not assassins, they are either hitmen or simple killers. To be an assassin you have to kill a political figure, even if you are not paid and even if you are a psycopath! Alternatively you can assassinate someone by slandering them, even if they are NOT a political figure, you just have to ruin their reputation. Then you can say "I have assassinated you, but technically i am not an assassin!"**_

_**But because nobody really CARES, we will keep calling Noir assassins...**_

_**Yay.**_

_**Okay, this is LIKE a filler, but with IMPORTANT information! That you NEED to know, think of it as background!

* * *

**_

**Scripture V **- _Only a Foolish Deer places his trust in the Jackal, but sometimes one must ally with the Jackal to fend away the Lion... But what will happen once the Lion is gone?

* * *

_

Les Deux Magots, a small well known diner located near the centre of Paris. Mireille and Kirika had been there often it was almost always full but the drinks served there were marvellous, now however it seemed as though there would be no more happy times spent here. From the outside it did not look as though much had happened, just a few smashed windows. Mireille however was sure that the inside would look much worse.

Walking carefully up to the rotating circular door of the café , the blonde assassin looked through the glass to the inside. Shadows reached across the interior and nothing could be made out with any accuracy, but the simple fact that the diner should in fact be open was enough to warn her. Stepping into the door she placed an arm on the metal bar and attempted to open turn the door around only to feel it jam after a slow half turn. Placing her weight against it she gave another harder push, only to face the same results. With a soft sigh Mireille turned to find whatever was jamming the door closed, she couldn't quite see what it was that looked to be stuck in the door from the inside, but the hunched human shape laying on the floor, with an apendage jammed in the door made her stop.

Quickly turning back and backing out the door she turned her gaze onto the smashed window, a few swift kicks cleared the lower sill of any sharp glass still hanging on and Mireille climbed through into the side area of the two room diner, with a quick breath she stepped up to the small door leading into the café proper. The smell hit her first as the door opened, a pugnant blast of foul air that quickly overwhelmed her and made her cough and back away. It was a smell she knew, but far worse than normal. The smell of death. It was never usually this bad, as a rule she and Kirika were gone before the bodies completely cooled, but here the bodies had obviously been dead for quite a while, allowing them to truely reek.

Stepping carefully inside with a hand over her mouth and nose the woman searched the café, her small black gun drawn and held in her other hand. No sounds were made, nothing attacked and nothing stirred, however this did not serve to calm her, but rather to make her even more alert. A few more steps across the hard floor covered with crunching fragments of glass brought her to the centre of the dining area, letting her look over what was left. Tables were upturned and chairs were tossed about, the glass on the main front window was shattered. At first glance it would seem as though some explosive had erupted from inside, but there was too much glass inside the building for that. Rather something, or someone, had come _in_ through the window first. Leaving in much the same way, but allowing a bomb to deal with all the evidence that remained.

Bodies were strewn around the floor, maybe seven or eight in total. They were generally against the walls, though one or two were crushed under tables. Suggesting that the explosion had been roughly in the centre of the Diner, blowing the already dead people into the walls. There was blood everywhere, pooling along the floor and dripping down the walls. No gun, short of a rocket launcher could be so messy, and the wounds didn't speak of firearms. They were cuts, slashes, gouges, the kind of wounds that only a very sharp object could make. Likely a melee weapon, no small knife commonly used by thugs produced such gore.

Something crunched with a wet plop under her foot, making her look down in distaste at the crushed hand under her foot. Severed. Grimacing she lifted her foot off it and stepped away, looking at the burn marks, judging where the explosion had happened and what it had been aimed to do. Sheer destruction, that was all the placement of the bomb suggested, making of the Diner a tomb with no evidence.

A typical terrorist attack on a small Diner.

Or at least, that was the story that the newspaper would spread around the next day, aided by the police. Mireille knew better, it could easily have belonged to something else... but in her mind there was no doubt. Careful to avoid cutting herself and thus dripping her own blood on the sharp glass, and therefore leave an interesting blood sample for the police, she picked up the small feather from the floor. It didn't surprise her as much as it should have, another Angel.

What did surprise her though was the feather itself.

Purest white.

"Very telling isn't it?" A melodious voice commented from behind. Mireille span on her heel while slamming a foot backwards, even as her arm tucked in against herself and shot out at the figure. In all of two seconds it was finished, Mireille now staring at a deep shadow in the diner, her gun unwaveringly promising death to whomever it was. She was calmer than she should have been, she knew. Since they had found that Angel Ramiel she had been exposed to many new secrets. She knew now that her skill might not always bring her through, not when the enemy was inhuman. The gun did not shake however.

"Into the light." Mireille commanded, jerking her head to the left to indicate where she wanted her unseen witness. There was a brief moment before Mireille heard glass crack under a heel, as a figure merged from the shadow and walked calmly to the centre of the room. Mireille nodded to herself, not really surprised at who it was.

Long red hair flowing in waves over her shoulder, lightly tanned skin and green eyes. The curvacious woman who had warned them the previous day looked back at Mireille. She was wearing the same clothes as the other night too, a red shirt over tight denim jeans. The shirt was hardly enough to cover her midriff and showed the curves of her large breasts. Despite the cold night she wore nothing else over the tightly fitting shirt.

"You remember me?" The woman asked in a sultry voice, one that would set men's hearts and groins afire. Mireille simply nodded to the question, her finger still resting over the trigger of her Walther. Just because a woman had apparently warned them did not mean Mireille could trust her.

"Yeah I do." Mireille spoke back, the harshness in her voice leaving little doubt as to her mistrust. "Are you the one who called me here?" The woman remained still, though perhaps more to gain Mireille's trust than to avoid a bullet. Could it be that all Angels were capable of stopping bullets like that other one had?

"That's right, I have some information that you might find useful, I can also offer you my aid, if you want it." There it was, the offer. Mireille had expected something like it, the information might be valuable, it might not be. But now someone was trying to win Noir over to their side.

"I'll have the information first thankyou." She wouldn't play to their games, not unless they had something better to offer.

"Very well. Is there a place we can speak privately, this Diner will not remain unnoticed for long. With all the dead bodies, the authorities are bound to show up sooner or later." Mireille narrowed her eyes at the woman, not that the gesture could be seen in the dark diner, did she trust the woman enough to bring her back to the apartment? No, of course not. But then... you never trusted anyone in this job, taking risks was what brought you success. Were the gains worth the risks however?

"Why should I trust you?" She asked the red haired woman, she didn't know what she expected as an answer, after all what answer could she give?

"Because you have no one else to trust, if you stay on the defensive too long then they'll kill you. You know you need to attack, I have the information you need. Not to mention that I can gather more, I can fight with you too if you need me." Mireille chewed on the inside of her cheek, keeping a cold and calm visage on the outside as she mulled over the woman's words. Sensing her indecision the redhead spoke again, "What do you have to lose? Your life won't last much longer anyway if you don't take my offer. You know that's true."

"Give me some information first, then I'll decide." She had said it to give herself more time, not because she actually needed it.

"That man, Angel, that tried to kill you, the one I warned you of. His given name is Azaziel, or Semyaza. He's one of the Horsemen and quite possibly the strongest Fallen Angel you will ever see. Others won't be that strong, and most can and will be brought down with a few bullets to the vital organs." Even as the redhead spoke, Mireille could sense her fear of this person, it was obvious that Mireille and Kirika were not the only ones being hunted.

"The Horseman? As in the four horsemen? Famine, plague, death and war?" Mireille was proud of her knowledge. The redhead shook her head.

"Those four are the real four horseman, not controlled by anyone. However the dark prophet, who leads the Fallen has named his four Generals after the four horseman, with each name corresponding as well. Azaziel is death. Now will you trust me?"

Mireille inspected her carefully, she had made no threatening moves but then that proved little. Those green eyes gave nothing away. This was _her _decision, and she and Kirika would pay the consequences for it, good or bad. There was a lot of pressure riding on her shoulders right now. A decision had to be made though, for the woman was right about one thing. Mireille always trusted her instincts, and they told her that they needed information now, or they would soon die.

"Fine. I don't trust you, but follow me. We can talk on the way back." She didn't say _where_ they were headed of course, but lowered her gun and made a show of placing it back in her handbag. In reality it was an empty show of peace, since she could draw it in a matter of seconds. Not to mention that this woman had admitted that anything could be brought down with a few well placed shots, by defenition that meant she could be too.

"That's all I can ask for at this moment." The redhead commented as she stepped over a dead body and out of the broken door with Mireille. "What is your name though, mine is Malyssa."

"Mireille." She replied in a neutral tone. "Tell me more about why we are targeted." Mireille spoke as she led them down a few alleys, it would take them maybe forty minutes to walk back to the apartment, plenty of time to grill the woman for information.

"I don't actually know that, you must be a threat to them, it's the only reason I have to believe that Azaziel of all people would attack you." Noir? A threat to the Fallen Angels, creatures who were mythology? That just didn't make sense, Mireille assumed that most Angels of both types had little to do with Mortals. So why would two assassins bother them. Mireille would be the first to admit that with Kirika at her side they were a formiddable pair. But certainly not enough to alter the outcome of a war. _How could assassins alter the outcome of a war?_ She thought to herself as they walked, _By killing the leader obviously, provided that the entire thing is run by one man and would fall apart without him. So here that would be... the devil? Obviously someone equally powerful, someone who would certainly have more power than this Azaziel... _

There was just no way that the two of them could constitute such a threat.

"Tell me more about the main war." Mireille asked, or rather demanded, "Why are the Angels fighting each other?" Perhaps it was the old theory, good verses evil, but surely such outdated concepts couldn't keep a race at war for... however long the Angels had existed, hundreds of years? Thousands? Since the beginning of time?

"Alright." The redhead replied with a nod, "First you need to understand the way things work. There are two types of Angel, Divine Angels, those are white wonged messangers of God as you may know them. I'm sure in your line of work you know not to judge a book by it's cover, some Divine Angels are what you might call evil, some are greedy, peverse, morally wrong. However they are _still_ divine. The fact is an Angel remains Divine until it "sins" and by sin it would be a very large sin. On the other hand Fallen Angels are either those who have sinned, or children of Fallen Angels. They _may_ be evil and corrupt, but then they may be nice too."

"But I digress, the point is it all began in an age where humans were first coming into being. The Divine are ruled by high beings known as Seraphs, which are said to be the only ones who can speak to the Lord. Back then there were five Seraphs; Metatron, Lamington, Aensor, Marinen and Morningstar. Each was extremely powerful and each held power over a fifth of the Divine. In a way they were commanders without a war. Each had a group of generals under their command, known as ArchAngels. Anyway there were many arguments but to cut it all short it began when Morningstar was sent to watch over the humans with a bunch of his followers. They did so since it was the command of his Lord, and for a long time they acted as silent guardians to the human race. However after a while some were spotted by humans, it was inevitable one cannot remain hidden for all eternity. Some made friends amongst humans and some stayed with them for long periods of time."

"What hit the war off however was when Morningstar took a human woman to his bed. Others had done the same and it was by no means rape, since the women were all more than willing to bed with these fine winged figures. However the offspring of this forbidden union turned out to be evil and powerful giants with great powers, they quickly turned on their famalies and began to kill humans indiscriminately. It was then that Morningstar ordered his host to deal with the problem, a short war ensued before the last of the giants were killed, but when the Angels attempted to return home to Celestia they were not welcome. News of the atrocity had reached the other Seraphs, who in fury at Morningstar copulating with their charges, ordered him executed. However, Morningsta was a very powerful Seraph and his followers were high on their recent victory and full of experience in fighting. As Aensor demanded that Morningstar surrender to his death the host roared with fury and defended their commander. The battle was exceedingly brutal, fast and completely unexpected and all of Aensor's host was killed in the resultant battle, before Morningstar's host fled from Celestia before the other Seraphs could order their hosts to battle."

"However it was forbidden to kill other Angels, and since only Morningstar's host had survived their wings darkened and they became Fallen Angels. Ever since then the Divine swore war on the Fallen for vengeance, and the Fallen swore war on the Divine, for casting them out. The first war was huge and was fought on Earth, it ended when Morningstar was greatly wounded as he struggled to battle the three remaining Seraphs at once. Marinen was killed in that battle. The Fallen did not retreat, even as their leader was dragged behind lines to heal, in the end the battle ended when the mortals, who were furious at their lands being destroyed, rose up and attacked the main host. Mortals had always outnumbered the Angels and in this battle they almost halfed the population, forcing both sides to retreat."

"Morningstar was too wounded to battle on and even now recuperates from his wounds, waiting until the time in which he can come forth again. Right now his armies are led by Dark Prophets, who rise and fall as mortals but in their time lead the Fallen host. Since then up until now the war has raged on in secret, Seraph Lamington was killed in the third crusade and Metatron fell not a week ago. There are no more Seraphs in the Divine host, and the war may be nearing it's end. That's it really. No one knows what the Fallen will do if they win, destroying the world seems a little unlikely, maybe they'll simply fade away, content in the knowledge that they earned their revenge?"

Mireille let out a long breath, so that was the reason why? One collossal accident? Leading to so long of war and death? Then again, Mireille knew that most wars were started over foolish reasons, why should this one be any different? Now with the Divine host losing all it's leaders there would probably be a big change in their plans, in their entire structure. If they even hoped to survive what was looking to become a very one-sided war they would need to change. Was that why they were now bringing humans into the equation? If the humans of old had managed to defeat the Angels at their strongest then perhaps the Divine and Fallen were trying to win the humans of this age over to their side.

"So this war has been going on for millions of years?" Mireille asked incredulously, red hair swayed as Malyssa nodded. "And nobody tried to stop it? Or make peace?"

"How?" Malyssa replied in a scornful tone, "How can you simply declare that there will be peace after so long? Thousands of Angels have died and every new child is taught to hate their counterparts. Sure, some _have_ tried for peace, but nobody has the power to grasp it. If one Angel says there should be peace he would be ignored, if the Divine all decided to try for peace, the Fallen would wipe them out in that moment of weakness. The same would happen the other way around. Besides, the Divine have no leader at the moment, so there is no one to negotiate with, and the Fallen are led by the Dark Prophet who is a mortal. What mortal would set aside all the power they could gain to ensure peace for a race that will outlive them? You don't become a Dark Prophet by being a martyr."

"So where do you come into all of this then?" Mireille asked as she stopped on the spot and turned to face the mysterious redhead. "What are you?"

"Me? I'm Malyssa, that's all I am, and all I'll ever be. However, I _will_ aid you!" Her face held no dishonesty and after a moment's silence Mireille began to lead them again.

"Why?" She asked after a while.

"Oh? Because I was ordered to do so, and before you ask I'm not allowed to tell you who my employer is. Let's just say he thinks you'll help him and is willing to aid you until then. Even if you decide not to help him, you might as well take all that you can get from him now, right?"

She was right of course, infuriatingly so. However someone who offered them service for service was easier to trust than some mysterious benefactor. Exchange of service was a game Mireille was used to.

"Well, if he can help us, then I'm willing to help him." Mireille was sure the message would get back to the man, Malyssa seemed like a very competent person. Even if there was no guarantee she, or this employer, could be trusted yet. "Tell me more about Angels, are they all immortal?"

"It's kind of complex, but basically yes. They won't die of old age, but disease, famine, drowning and wounds will kill them. In a way it all depends on the power of the individual Angel. You would not be able to kill Morningstar, for instance. Not without an enchanted weapon. But most Angels would fall to your guns."

"Enchanted weaponry? That's all real?" Mireille had once been fond of fantasy things like this, but to hear that they were real in today's world?

"Yes, of course. Again it's all complex. Only silver can be enchanted, no one knows why. Plus enchantments will only work for a very brief amount of time, and can only be renewed by an Angel. Plus it will only work on melee weapons." Mireille sigested that information for a few minutes before speaking again.

"And this would allow us to easily kill Angels?"

"No," Malyssa quickly interrupted, "You have to understand that almost all Angels use melee weaponry, because they can enchant it. As such they will be very skilled with their chosen form of fighting. So getting close enough to stab one with an enchanted blade is very hard, plus it only makes wounds that are very dangerous, not outright killing. It would still be very hard for you to kill someone of Azaziel's character for instance."

"Damn... but what would happen if we managed to kill Azaziel?" The question had been bothering her, and Malyssa's reply confirmed her fears.

"Then the other horsemen would come for you. Is this where you live?" Mireille started as she realised they were in fact at the entrance to the building they rented an apartment in. _Well, this is the moment of truth, she now knows where we live..._

"Yes it is. Come on." With that she led the redhead into the main building and up the stairs to the second floor, pausing at the white door to their apartment. Taking a deep breath Mireille composed herself. Reaching out with one hand she knocked three times on the door in a slow beat, alerting Kirika that it was her who was entering. Mireille knew there would be no one else inside, because if anyone had tried to enter then as soon as Kirika saw them she would shoot, and there would be holes all over the door.

The door clicked as it opened and she quickly walked inside, the first thing she noticed was Kirika, seated at the table and drinking tea from a small cup. That was hardly surprising. What was however was the youth with massive white wings spread behind his back sitting with her, another cup of tea on the table before him. _Why did he come back?_ She tried to ask herself, and was about to ask him before the young Angel's eyes rose to look at them.

"What are-" She managed to get out.

"FALLEN!" He screamed in fear and anger just as Mireille turned to see giant black wings erupt from Malyssa's back and curl slowly around the entryway of their apartment. Even as Ramiel screamed and charged with a kitchen knife in his fist, all Mireille could do was stand there as she realised the implications of leading an enemy to their very location.

And with the speed of a snake, Malyssa struck.

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**_Not sure if this is good or bad, but it's more of a filler/information chapter. Next chapter will be better, and MAY be quicker in the coming. Sorry about it all, just a stressing time for me. The end of college, the nearing of my final exams, the pressure to get the grades to get into the university i want... etc..._**

_**Please review.**_


	7. Cause and Effect

**_Look… I'll admit, it's an odd chapter. This is still serious, not humour, this chapter just comes across fairly humorous. _**

**_HEY At least it was a quick update!

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**Scripture VII **- _A Wise Man Knows not Only How to Attain Success, but Also when Success is Impossible.

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"FALLEN!" Ramiel screamed as loud as he could, leaping from his chair to attack the Fallen Angel with the kitchen knife he had snatched up from the worktop. Already the redheaded abomination was unfurling her wings, displaying purest black wings as large, if not larger than his own. She was obviously powerful, but with the element of surprise she would fall like any other.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the dark haired girl, Kirika snatching her gun up and getting ready to fire, a small grin lit Ramiel's face. One more Fallen dead.

Without warning she struck. Faster than any mortal could hope to achieve she ducked forwards and slammed into Ramiel with her palm extended, smashing it into his stomach and winding him. In his moment of weakness she attacked again, placing him in between herself and Kirika so that the young Asian could not fire, Ramiel tried to slash blind with his knife but felt his arm caught by hers, a swift jerk to the side and down had him bent over with his face facing the ground and his arm held out horizontally behind him. There was a loud snap and a scream as she brought her elbow down on his twisted arm.

"Don't move or he dies!" She shouted out, kneeling next to Ramiel's broken form with the knife to his throat. The young Angel let out a whimper as his arm screamed to him in pain, he held it to his chest to try and lessen the agony.

"Don't listen to her, kill her!" He called to them, but stopped as the bitch behind him pressed the knife further into his throat, pricking his skin. Kirika looked to Mireille for instruction, who was at that moment slowly bringing her gun out of her handbag.

"Continue if you want this Angel to die, then I'll attack you. Just put the gun down and talk Mireille." The blonde didn't stop.

_You just don't understand Fallen, she doesn't care about me. She will simply kill us both._ The thought scared him, but then again, he was as good as dead anyway with his own kind casting him out. The Fallen Angel had obviously realised this too.

"Besides… I have information you need…. Remember?"

This made Mireille pause, throughout this Kirika had not batted an eyelid but had stayed with her gun trained on the Fallen Angel's head, simply waiting for Mireille's command.

To Ramiel's surprise the blonde let her gun fall back into the handbag.

"Alright." She answered. "What now?" There was a release of tension from the Angel holding him, and had he been at a hundred percent he would have capitalised on it to escape. As it were he merely sat in the clutches of his enemy, cradling his throbbing arm.

"What I said earlier, it was all true. I'm here to help you, I merely defended myself against your trigger-happy friend here. I still intend to be your ally. So if you promise to let me explain then I will let him go." Her voice was warm and was whispered against his ear, making him shiver slightly at the feeling rushing through him. Angels weren't above such thoughts, it was simply how one dealt with them that made you Divine.

"Kirika, don't shoot." Mireille instructed of the young girl, who kept the gun pointing at the Fallen Angel a moment longer than necessary, a silent promise, before letting it drop to her side.

"How can you trust her?" Ramiel demanded incredulously of the blonde assassin, "She's Fallen! You cannot trust Fallen!" He was again silenced when the arm around his neck tightened and this time the knife drew a dribble of blood.

"I don't like you much either _Divine_, but I'm willing to stomach you." The way she said the word "divine" made it sound like an insult. "Or… I could just kill you?"

"No!" Mireille commanded, making the blade stop and Ramiel let out a breath of relief, "If you come here in peace then you don't harm anything. That goes for you too Ramiel. No attacking her just because she's a Fallen Angel."

"You hear that white-wing? Give up now, show your inferiority to me." She taunted in a smug voice, at the mere thought of that Ramiel bristled and growled angrily. He would _never_ allow her dominance over him!

"Go to Hell." He gritted back to her. Mireille watched worriedly, but made no move to intervene.

"You forget, I've been there. You think you can get out of my grip like that? Just surrender to me, I'll let you live, besides we'll be allies soon."

"Malyssa! Put him down." Mireille commanded with an edge to her voice.

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"Put him down!" She commanded, not fully understanding what was going on here, but not liking the tension in the air. Why did Ramiel not just surrender for now and let that be it? Was his pride so damned big? Malyssa turned to regard her.

"It's an Angel thing Mireille, I won't harm him." She applied pressure to his arm, making him yelp, "As long as he submits."

_Submits to what?_ She wondered. Looking at Kirika showed that she was just as confused as Mireille was, but she seemed to be willing to simply watch.

"Ramiel…" Mireille spoke, "Just give into her for now, we have important things to discuss." The look he gave her in reply made her pause.

"You don't understand!" He snapped back at her, but she could see a faint glimmer of shame or fear in his eyes, as if he was asking her for help.

"Malyssa, that's enough, whether he submits or not, let him go now!" She snarled out, annoyed at the both of them in equal measure, she assumed it would be easier to reason with Malyssa than Ramiel.

She was wrong.

"NO!" The redhead snarled, throwing her weight onto Ramiel and dragging him to the floor, Mireille froze on the spot as they wrestled on the floor for a brief moment, the knife having been knocked away. It didn't seem as if anyone was going to be killed so Mireille just watched in a little confusion.

Malyssa was winning, that much was obvious, though Ramiel was holding her off fairly well with only one working arm. It didn't take long however for Malyssa to pin him down on his back with his good arm against his own throat and his bad arm in Malyssa's grasp. His wings splayed about underneath him as she sat on his stomach with her legs on either side of him.

"Pride will get you nowhere _kid_, now give up!" She snarled angrily at him, pulling on his arm in a manner that made Mireille want to go and stop it. Ramiel's pained cries weren't helping. Kirika looked to be fighting with herself whether or not to attack.

Ramiel tried kneeing her in the back but the woman simply bared her teeth and slapped him painfully, leaving a large red mark on his face.

"Last chance kid, give in now, or I swear when you do submit I'll make it worse for you." She finished her threat by twisting his broken arm, making sure they all heard the grinding bones mingling with Ramiel's pained whimpers.

"…" Ramiel whispered something so quietly that Mireille could not make it out. Malyssa grinned madly.

"What did you say kid?" She demanded in a pleased voice.

"I submit…." He said it just a little louder. She applied more pressure to his arm.

"AHH! I SUBMIT! Please don't hurt me…." Even as he said it his white wings began withdrawing under him and into his back, making Malyssa's grin widen, if she were a cat Mireille was sure her tail would be swishing happily.

Mireille let out a breath as the redhead released his arm, letting it fall at the young Angel's side. Ramiel made no threatening gesture as he let his muscles go limp and remained with his arms laying out beside him.

"There." Malyssa said in a soft voice, "Not so difficult was it?" She leaned down to Ramiel's face and looked into his eyes for a moment, making Mireille wonder for the tenth time just what the Hell was going on.

"Alright, Malyssa you've made your point, let him go." Neither of them moved as Malyssa studied him strangely.

Before Mireille could even sigh in frustration Malyssa dived down and began kissing the young Divine Angel passionately, pressing her lips against his and dipping her tongue into his mouth. Mireille gaped like a fish out of water. Kirika tilted her head to the side in mild confusion and kept watching.

"Just what the HELL do you think you are doing on my floor?" She cried out in anger and shock, what was this? Some kind of warped Angelic mating ritual, you had to beat the crap out of who you wanted to marry in Heaven? Throughout her thought Malyssa continued to engage in a kiss which looked designed to clear out a good portion of the upper intestine.

"THAT'S IT! STOP NOW!" Mireille screamed, losing all patience as she fired a shot into the ground by their heads. The message got through as Malyssa's body froze and her face slowly lifted up. She turned to face Mireille with a blush, of all things, covering her face.

"Oh…" She commented with the blush growing, along with Mireille's confusion, "I guess I got carried away, sorry." She quickly climbed off of Ramiel and stood up, Ramiel made no move to climb to his feet, and yet at the same time didn't look as shocked or mortified as Mireille would have expected.

"You can get up now Ramiel." Mireille commented with a deep sigh, feeling a mounting headache coming on. He made no move to follow her order. Malyssa smiled a Cheshire smile.

"You can stand up now Ramiel." Malyssa this time repeated what Mireille had said. Ramiel slowly climbed to his feet with one arm hanging useless and his face looking at the floor. "Oh stop pouting!" Malyssa commanded.

"Kirika? Take Ramiel and clean him up, re-set his arm while you are at it." Kirika nodded and led Ramiel away, Mireille could see the small amount of apprehension on his face, Mireille pitied him, it would be very painful. But she had more important problems.

"Okay Malyssa, what the hell did you just do? What have you done to him?" Malyssa didn't drop her grin.

"I just did what has not been done for six hundred years! I subdued a Divine Angel!" She sounded far too happy, and not a bit apologetic about the experience. Mireille glared at her angrily.

"Care to explain?" She hissed.

"Oh sure. Basically I made him submit to me, in a way I suppose you could say I showed dominance over him. We Angels are a little more primal in our characteristics, it's what makes us so dangerous. Basically he will be fine when the depression of losing wears off, but he'll almost always submit to me and do anything I say!" She clapped her hands together at this and Mireille let out another frustrated sigh.

"So he's a Fallen Angel now?" She asked, wondering if that was why he had withdrawn his wings.

"No he's not, and he probably wouldn't follow my commands to kill his own kind, primal urges don't extend that far. Also he might be a little resentful, not only because he has broken a long chain of Divine Angels never submitting, but because I have shown my superiority and he will want to prove himself against me. So he might challenge me a little. Think of wolves in a pack, I'm now the Alpha male…. Or Alpha female…"

"And that made you almost rape him?" At this Malyssa's face went beet red but she smiled through it.

"Pretty much, it's a heady feeling being dominant over someone and it made me act more primal. Besides he's cute…. Nice butt too!" Mireille could only sigh at this, she was too exasperated to be angry.

"And now he has a broken arm and will be useless to us…"

"It'll heal before tomorrow night. Angelic healing powers. He'll be fine, but more importantly, why is a Divine Angel here?" _More importantly?_ Mireille thought to herself angrily.

"We helped him kill a Fallen Angel and helped him heal, he's a friend, so watch where you step! And no sex in this apartment!" She added as an afterthought and then cursed herself for how stupid she sounded. Aspirin was sounding like a good idea right now, that or a large bottle of Scotch whiskey.

"Yeah fine, look, Mireille, I'm very tired is there somewhere I can sleep?" A loud snap and a yell echoed across the apartment, making the both of them wince.

"No there isn't, Ramiel has the futon on the floor, I can get you a pillow and you can sleep on the ground." Mireille stopped as Malyssa smiled and waved her away.

"It's okay, I'll sleep with Ramiel, no don't worry not sex, I have my standards! It'll be much comfier." As she finished she walked off to get Ramiel.

"I don't think he'll let you." Mireille called after her, wondering when the situation went so far out of her control.

"I don't think he'll dare stop me." Malyssa called back before disappearing around the corner of the petition.

"Stupid Angels…" Mireille muttered to herself as she climbed into her own bed that she shared with Kirika, with Ramiel here she had to get undressed under the covers. What would living with two Angels, one Divine and one Fallen be like?

The answer came to her easily.

Bloody complicated….. and they hadn't even achieved anything this night? With those bastards hunting them they couldn't afford to waste time like this…

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**_Okay this is odd…. It sounds like a humour chapter and I guess it is. But it IS an integral part of the storyline! I promise! I have not given up on seriousness or anything, and the next chapter is planned to be fairly serious!_**

_**Keep in mind, what may be of humour to you, is torture, shame and defeat for Ramiel… and fatal complications for Noir. See! It's all part of the plot. **_

_**REVIEW!**_


	8. Discontent

_**Here it is, Divine Contract chapter 8 finally! Thank Roniyuy for this since she got on my case and made sure I updated. Also she is now my BETA reader and has helped to make this chapter as good as it is. Those who hate spelling mistakes should be exceedingly grateful. lol. Anyway, just a message to everyone. I've created a forum... basically i think its called "Challenges" or such, and is a forum where i hope people can put down their ideas for Noir fanfiction that they can't carry out, for whatever reason. Also for those who want to see particular fanfiction. Use this forum to offer ideas, or to challenge people to write certain fanfictions. So whether you're a reader who wants to see an alternate pairing, or an author who wants a challenge, try looking at the forum. I explain it better in the rules section.

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**Scripture VIII**_ - _

SAINT MICHAEL,  
the Archangel,  
defend us in battle,  
be our defense against the wickedness  
and snares of the devil.

May God rebuke him,  
we humbly pray;  
and do thou,  
O Prince of the heavenly host,  
by the power of God,  
thrust into Hell Satan  
and the other evil spirits  
who prowl about the world  
for the ruin of souls.  
Amen.

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Mireille's awakening was sudden, shocking even. Her eyes jolted open yet her body did not move except for a quick glance around to collect herself. She was still in their shared apartment, the warmth pressed against her back told her that Kirika was still there as well. Yet even as she lay back down and tried to relax, something would not let her close her eyes. There was a chill to the air around her, that unmistakable feeling of being watched was pervading her senses, making it impossible to fall back into a deep slumber.

Opening her eyes again she took a more detailed look around the apartment, it was still deep night outside, yet the street lamps and car lights were painting a light blue pattern on the ceiling of the apartment, giving a dim but noticeable light with which to see by. She was lying at the edge of the bed with Kirika clinging behind her, preventing her from looking behind her, though she knew there was a solid partition there anyway. Perhaps not four meters from their bed was a spare mattress on the ground, with two figures lying within covered by a single large blanket. From the sounds of their breathing, Mireille knew that Ramiel and Malyssa were deeply asleep. Apparently it was only her who had awoken.

There was little reason for her to be so either, though it was not an exact science, people who had to be aware of their surroundings at all times often developed almost a "sense" of what was near them. Even more strongly within their own homes. It could not be explained past the way a person would instinctively _know_ that the sound they heard was someone entering their house, rather than from animals or a door slamming. Being an assassin, and always being so highly strung, Mireille's and Kirika's especially, sense was honed strongly. It was telling her that no one else was in her apartment. No sounds, no presence, no change from when she had gone to sleep. But still... there was something.

Cautiously Mireille climbed to her feet, careful to not let Kirika wake up, though from the slight hitch in the Asian's breathing she had done so anyway. The girl remained still however, seemingly content to pretend to be asleep. Mireille didn't mind of course, Kirika did not want to leave herself vulnerable by falling asleep without Mireille with her. Whilst in Kirika's arms, Mireille knew that any threatening gesture she might make would instantly wake the Asian up, this way they both knew what the other was doing, even whilst asleep.

Standing, Mireille looked around but found nothing out of the ordinary, sighing she sat back on the bed again. _I guess I'm just wound too tight right now._ A sudden cold chill hit her and she rubbed her arms to fight it off.

The sound of a heavy footstep crunched against her wooden floor.

Mireille's eyes did not even finish widening before they hardened, and she propelled herself from the bed, Walther P99 in hand. Before she even made it to the divide in the partition, Kirika was beside her with her Beretta M1934 held ready, both silenced.

Dodging around the partition end they both instantly shot three bullets at the blurry shape in their living room. Even as the first bullet fired Mireille idly thought how if Ramiel had chosen this time to use the bathroom then he was in for a nasty surprise. The blonde's only warning of attack was a quick blue flash that seemed to shoot from in front of the figure, acting like a shield and knocking the bullets aside, not a millisecond later something hard hit her and sent her reeling to the ground.

Acting on instinct she flipped herself over as Kirika might have done and pointed her Walther at the figure, and paused. Kirika was standing still, though her position was worse than Mireille's. The tall figure had her pinned against the partition wall, one hand on her gun, and the other holding what could only be described as a glowing light blue sword to the underside of her chin._ Damn it, a stand off... not now._ She cursed to herself.

"What the HELL is going on here?" A feminine voice called out before a dark black shape appeared from nowhere and tackled the figure from the small Asian. Mireille quickly took aim at the mass that was Malyssa and the mysterious figure and pulled the trigger, after all, Malyssa could survive one or two hits. The gun clicked empty. _Impossible!_ Her eyes widened as she noticed a telling lack of weight in her hands, her being too occupied to notice it earlier. Surely enough her magazine was empty. If she wasn't so sure of herself she might have said it had fallen out. _Is this person so fast he could dodge the bullets, reach me before I can think, knock me back whilst at the same time discharging my magazine from my gun?_ The way Kirika was also looking at her own gun confirmed it to be so. _Damn._

"Shi-" Malyssa tried to curse but was cut off by the meaty crunch of her body being thrown into the wall at an inhuman speed. Mireille readied herself and prepared to charge into a battle she knew she couldn't win, after all there was nowhere to run from here. Before she could charge though a voice cut her off.

"Lord!" Ramiel cried out in shock.

Everything stopped.

"Ahh Ramiel, you are here, that is good." the figure said in a deep voice, _inhumanly deep_ Mireille thought to herself. It was more as though the voice was spoken out loud and straight into her mind as well, like two voices overlapping perfectly. "All of you, I mean you no harm, I was merely startled and reacted badly to your attacks, I apologize."

"Yeah.. sure.." Mireille managed to get out, too surprised at this turn of events to be herself. After all, how often was it that a potential enemy defeated you all then realised he was actually not there to do it, and then apologised to you? _What luck... if Ramiel hadn't recognised this man..._

"Gahh! Bastard, who the hell do you think you are? I'll rip your Fing throat out!" Malyssa screamed angrily as she pulled herself from the floor, Mireille was glad the neighbours had moved out a while ago.

"I did not introduce myself I see. Very well. My name is Michael, I am an Archangel of the Divine." Both of his voices were full of confidence as he said this, making Mireille wince at the words. _Oh lord... an Archangel, this just gets better and better. If he is here to kill Ramiel, or if he decides to kill Malyssa then I doubt he would let Kirika or I walk away._

"Oh..." Malyssa spoke in a suddenly rather quiet tone of voice. Obviously she did not fancy her chances of ripping his throat out as being rather good anymore.

"So why have you come here?" Mireille asked in as polite a tone as she could, she managed to keep it from sounding like an interrogation through some effort of will.

"I have come to explain some things to you. Also to answer some questions if I can. The entire world is in a precarious position and I feel you might be able to stop its demise. Or at least delay it." Mireille swallowed a sigh before it could come out and looked to see what Kirika thought of the situation, she was met with Kirika's quick glance, signaling that the young Asian would prefer to let her deal with the situation. _How can the entire fate of the world rest on our shoulders... this is like some crazy novel or game. Except there is no guarantee that things will play out to a happy ending..._

"So what can _we_ do to help? I'm sure you're aware of our occupation." That and the lack of morality it entailed... after all, she was fairly sure assassins were not tolerated in heaven. If she'd known of the existence of heaven like this, she would have chosen a more acceptable path in life!

"I am, and yet it is said even the smallest wolf can take down a lion, especially when he catches it off guard, say if its attention were to be held by something else...Us perhaps..."

"Except that their attention is already on us, they have tried to kill us already." She fired back. The room was still far too dark to make anything out so she could not gauge his reaction to her statement, though she guessed from his silence it was surprise.

"Is that so..." the voice murmured, making Mireille curse, if even he were unaware of it their chances of finding out more information were slim indeed. "This is troubling news, as you can see I am not often kept informed of events nowadays. Allow me to tell you what has transpired in Celestia these past few days..." Mireille noticed Ramiel perking up at this. At least they would get the answers to some of their questions this night. The figure waved his hand to the side, causing light blue sparks to fly from it menacingly, instantly Mireille and Kirika took a step back and sought for a weapon. Inside Mireille was cursing herself for not having used the conversation time to reload her gun. Fortunately the sparks began to fade before coalescing into a colourless orb of light, which floated to the ceiling before stopping.

"Merely a light for us to see by." The tall man spoke. Mireille calmed down after noticing that Ramiel and Malyssa were both still calm, apparently used to such things. Mireille took the opportunity of light to inspect the Archangel. He was tall, well over six feet but within the range for a normal person. So far no Angels had seemed to have any inhuman physical qualities past their wings and eye colours. At least she could assume they would not have to fight any monsters from old movies. His face was covered by a dark grey hood, like a cowl. It was the same type that Ramiel had attached to the back of his collar, apparently something all Divine Angels used to hide their faces. Despite her natural skepticism she had to conclude that it had some magical properties, for despite the thin hood everything within it was an oily black. Not shadow, just pure inky black nothingness. His clothing, or armour, was in the form of what looked like an old European breast plate made of dull bronze. She was surprised to see that it was completely plain and held no religious symbols or arcane scrawling. The fronts of his thighs were covered by thick pads of bronze as well, ending above his knees where dark grey trousers that looked like silk continued down to heavy looking dull grey boots with metal shod on the end. He did not even have his wings out, in face the only thing about him that looked Angelic was a bright white cloak he had buckled around his shoulders and draping down his back like a cape. It seemed a little long however for at least three feet of it pooled behind him on the floor.

The only material weapon he seemed to possess was a small dagger on his left waist. Of course with his seeming ability to create anything from nothing, like the light and the shield that had stopped their bullets, she supposed he did not need much else... This was obviously a rare skill, or one only the higher ranked angels had, since Ramiel was still forced to use a kitchen knife he had found in their drawers, having apparently lost his weapon when he crashed into their lives.

"So." Mireille opened, "What is happening in the great beyond?" She couldn't bring herself to say "heaven" it just seemed too unreal and almost corny to say that.

"As you may or may not know, Celestia was ruled by the Seraphs, however that is in the past since Seraph Metattron was murdered two years ago. Since then it has been ruled by the four Archangels, Myself, Uriel, Gabriel and Raphael. This has gone on for two years, until just a few days ago, when Gabriel made a "proposition". He claimed that we were divided and weak as we were, and needed a _single _governing body to make decisions, since we Archangels are better as warriors than as strategists. So, the Divine Council of Celestia was made, governed by eight high councilors." He was about to continue but Mireille interrupted him.

"If you were the strongest left, does that mean the High Councillors are _weaker_ than you?" That seemed unreasonable, since surely in a society like that the strongest should rule?

"Yes it does. They are all of them individually weaker than an Archangel. The parameters for their being chosen were high power, so that any two of them could hold off one of the Archangels, and other qualifications. Such as certain age, intelligence and a drive for success. Simply speaking they _are_ powerful, but were mainly picked for their ability to rationalize and to theoretically lead us to better times. Also it would free up the Archangels to fight in the war, where we can be best used. The Theory was perfect..." He trailed off.

"But the practicality sucked, eh?" Malyssa finished with a grin. Mireille had to wonder why most Angels sounded so gramatically correct, whilst Malyssa sounded so ... human.

"Power." Kirika spoke, making everyone look at her. "They wanted power." Mireille nodded to that, it was obvious really. Give anyone that much authority, _especially_ if he were to be ranked higher than those more powerful than him, and he would be corrupt.

"Not at first, but yes when they realized the power they held they became... though not corrupt, less than moral in their choices." The Archangel continued. "Though their aim was still the defeat of the Fallen and the victory of the Divine, the methods they began to use to achieve this, though brilliant, were disrespectful. Such as sending out a small armed force with no warning of an enemy ambush, sacrificing them so that they could spring an ambush on the Fallen who caught them. As I said, it was a good plan and won us a battle, but willfully throwing away Divine lives like that. Not to mention that those lost were all young, obviously judged "expendable" by the Council. Such bartering with lives is not what Celestia stands for."

"So why not overthrow them?" Malyssa asked curiously, "As I recall each of the four legions is loyal only to their Lord, it's not as if this Council could order your execution."

"It is not so simple. Gabriel supports the council wholeheartedly, he only sees the victories and not the lives lost, whilst Uriel simply follows their orders... he has always been like that. So both of them would oppose a revolution. Raphael... he... uhh..." The being tapered off, shocking Mireille slightly. It seemed simply all too strange to imagine an Archangel, _the HIGHEST_ of the Angels at this time, stuttering. _I guess they're all human inside, or what we call human... I wonder if they think we're Angel inside? _

"Raphael.." He started again, "It is not good. Basically Raphael was furious with the idea and stormed off, shortly after a quarter of the Angel population vanished from Celestia." There was a moment of silence in which Ramiel's jaw seemed to drop. Malyssa broke it by bursting out in laughter.

"You mean Rapheal buggered off with every man he had," she managed to get out between bouts of laughter. She continued to laugh loudly before wiping a tear from her eye. Although Mireille could not see inside the Angel's hood, she could tell he was frowning.

"Yes. He did. I wish I had listened to him and opposed this from the start but I did not. So it is now one Archangel versus two, so I cannot do anything and do not intend to. Celestia needs to stand united."

"So why come here then?" Mireille questioned. "It's obvious that this new council has decided to kill Ramiel for some reason, but what use do you have for us?"

"Yes, Ramiel is to be killed because he did not come back from his mission, they believe he may be a spy, and now his running from the Gate Guardians has ensured his fate for them. As such you cannot be seen with him by any Angel not of my order. I have ordered all my men to wear a thin light blue armband ion their upper arms. Any Angel without this is a threat to you. The use I have for you though, is to kill certain individuals. Simple, yes?" Mireille nodded, this she knew, exchange of services. All of a sudden things seemed more reasonable that she was in an area of her expertise.

"What would we receive for our help? Also who would we be killing?" She was loathe to give up her search for the Soldats at this time, but if they were being hunted by Fallen Angels then they also needed as much information as they could get on them.

"I will offer money and also information on the Fallen and their activities. It has also come to my attention that you are being bothered by a faction known as Les Soldats. Not only can I obtain information for you on them, but I can also exert some pressure on them to cease their hostile activities. For a while at least." Mireille felt her mouth become dry, if he could do all that they would HAVE to help him. Having the Soldats back off for a while whilst they dealt with this new threat was simply too good an opportunity to miss. "As for _who_ you will be dealing with. The targets will mainly be human, though it is possible that Fallen could be with them. However a clean shot to the head _will_ kill them, and with a Divine and a Fallen of your own you should not run into too much trouble. What say you?"

"I say we need time to think on this, is there a way we can contact you?" Though in truth she knew that they practically had to do this, she still wanted some time to look for any strings to his generous offer.

"Not easily, this will be the last time I can see you. However... Fine. Look out of your window to the north," Mireille did so and saw another apartment flat. Tomorrow night I will send an Angel to leave a folder in a trashcan by the front door of it. Pick it up, it will be the first mission. If you wish to help me then complete it, I will know when it is done. On the bottom of the instructions will be a note detailing where the next pickup point will be. Though money will be entered directly into one of your bank accounts, information will be with the next mission objective. Do not worry about any Fallen intercepting it, if the info is never in a place, check the trash can again for the next few days, I will personally make sure this never fails in the long run, is that acceptable?"

"Of course." Mireille replied easily, it was simple enough, though e-mail would have been simpler she assumed that the Divine Council might be able to track it. "You do realize that we may not accept this?" She questioned, wanting to make sure he knew this was their choice.

"Yes, if the first job is not completed within three days I will assume you did not accept. Or if you do not visit a drop point I will also stop leaving them. Is that all?" Mireille thought to herself, yes, that really was all they needed. She would discuss the offer later with Kirika, though she knew the Asian's input would be minor. It might also be best to ask Malyssa, to see what her employer wanted of them. _After all, I work for reward, not a place on God's supper table._

"Yes. Thank you for giving us this information. Do you want to see him off Ramiel?" The young Angel nodded almost immediately and left with his Lord. Mireille knew he wanted to ask what he was supposed to do, a cast away from his legion by legal standards but still under his Lord's command.

"Kirika?" The small girl nodded, "Malyssa too, come sit down... we need to decide what to do here."

* * *

Deep inside a quiet library late at night, a figure was bent over a computer, typing madly whilst looking at the flickering screen. Yet another court case coming up where one of the force was to be charged for indecent assault and police brutality. It would of course go the same way as always.

Judge D'Estaing quickly glanced around as he heard a soft thumping sound. However the darkness remained still and he turned back to his computer, shutting it down before snapping his briefcase shut. Standing, he turned around. The sudden appearance of the figure in front of him made him stumble backwards, hitting his back against the low desk and knocking him to his knees.

"Damn it. What the hell do you think you're doing? The library is closed!" He snapped angrily, annoyed at being caught off guard like that. Raising his eyes he observed the person to be a young woman judging from the hair, which was a strange magenta colour. She was dressed in a long dark green coat of some sort that wrapped all the way around her body.

"I am Noir, and you have upset the Soldats." His eyes widened and his heart began to beat faster as he saw her hand draw a knife from within her sleeve.

"No wait! plea-" His words were silenced by the painless feeling of something sliding between his neck. Though there seemed to be no pain he still panicked as he felt some warm liquid slosh onto his chest, making him feel cold all over. Looking down he could only watch in horror as his lifeblood poured out over him, drawing him slowly and mercilessly into death.

Chloé watched him dispassionately, making sure he was very well and dead when he finally stopped squirming. Though she did not show it she was in fact worried and a little disturbed. Not at all for the corpse of a man in front of her, but rather for what was missing from the scene. Namely the pretenders who called themselves Noir... or the _pretender_. It seemed there had been a complication... for their plans to back fire so severely. Still, it was no great loss. All three of them were after all in Paris, and Chloé knew from Altena where they lived.

"I guess I'll pay them a visit tomorrow. No doubt they will be anxious to receive information on the Soldats." _Not to mention that I'll be able to see _her_ again..._

_After all this time..._

A hollow flap of her coat was the only sound made as she vanished into the darkness and ghosted out of the library. Leaving the wide open eyes of Judge D'Estaing to stare sightlessly at where the girl who killed him had once stood.

* * *

**_Right, thats it for now, hope you enjoyed. Sorry it id again MORE exposition, but action is coming up. Anyway, please check the forum out and use it some? I mean i would like to see what challenges or ideas people have that they might want to share._**


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